The First Season
by Twinsfan725
Summary: Pre-Canon, slightly AU. During the London season of 1888, Robert and Cora meet for the first time. They embark on a sudden courtship that, through the eyes of society, seems destined to fail. But through the pressures of class and culture and a crumbling estate, Robert and Cora manage to find love as a pair deeply rooted in friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! I'm far from new to fanfiction but this is my first ever Downton Abbey story and I'm super excited to share it with you guys (though a little hesitant)! Like everyone else in this fandom I cannot wait to see the movie next year. Robert and Cora (aka Cobert) captured my attention from the beginning and I too let my imagination run wild as to how these two met. I've enjoyed the hundreds of fics surrounding Cobert, there are so many great writers here. I've decided to do a little bit of an AU, where Robert comes to terms with his love for Cora much sooner than what we know in canon. I have a pretty good idea of where I want to take this story and beyond to the actual events of the show itself. My updates may vary, but I'm hoping with a new story I can be more frequent. Reviews/feedback is always welcome, I hope you enjoy it! Happy Holidays!**

* * *

Chapter One

London 1888

Robert couldn't keep his eyes off her as she danced in the arms of a duke, twirling about the ballroom in quick, fluid movements. Their swaying bodies soon became lost to him amongst the sea of dancing couples, except for the flutter of a glittering crème gown. Their eyes met briefly, one second where time seemed frozen in place, and then once more she was gliding away from him, blending back in the crowd. But those eyes he remembered, a delicate yet piercing shade of blue that drew him like a moth to the flame.

The music surrounding him didn't matter. Instead, the pounding of his heart echoed through his ears like the beat of a drum, loud and rhythmic that Robert was sure the gentleman standing beside him could hear it. He sipped his champagne leisurely, waiting for the orchestra to die down in hopes that he might catch another glimpse of her and the exquisite gown she attired.

When the upbeat tempo finally slowed, Robert gave his glass to a passing footman carrying a silver tray. Again, he sought her out amongst the diverging couples, growing disappointed when neither she nor the Duke emerged from the dance floor. A tap on his shoulder made him jump and he twirled around, hoping that it was her, only to be met with the crooked smile of his scheduled dance partner. His grin faded slightly, feigning his disappointment once more, and he held out his hand for the young woman to take.

Robert led her out to the dance floor as the orchestra transitioned to the next song. He guided her around the ballroom with expert steps, earning him gracious compliments, but he hardly paid her the attention she deserved. His eyes kept scanning the room, desperately searching for the woman wearing a crème gown.

"I didn't think I'd be such a disappointment."

The young woman held loosely in his arms spoke with such softness that Robert barely heard her over the music, as close as they were to each other. He moved his gaze back to her, but she was no longer looking at him. Her chin fell to her chest as she watched their feet slide effortlessly across the polished floor. "I do apologize," Robert said. "I never meant to treat you as such."

She looked back up at his apology and smiled slightly. "I know I'm not the one you seek, but I've enjoyed having the chance to make your acquaintance, Lord Downton."

Robert managed a polite smile in return. "As am I, Miss . . ."

"Marsden," she supplied for him. "Eleanor Marsden."

He bowed his head. "A pleasure, Miss Marsden. And might I add, you dance just as divinely."

She blushed, her eyes once more straying from his handsome face. "Thank you."

They continued to swirl about in silence, moving in time to the music and circling those who grew sluggish and tired. As the song faded away with the low whine of a cello, Robert ushered Eleanor off the dance floor, their fingers still loosely entwined.

"Thank you again for the dance, Lord Downton," Eleanor said as she smoothed out the slight wrinkle of her pale blue gown.

Robert bowed his head once more. "The pleasure was all mine."

"Might we see more of each other while we're in London?" Her lips twitched, holding back the crooked smile he thought was rather charming on her. "That is, if you'll be staying in the city the rest of the Season."

Robert held his hands behind his back, twisting his fingers together. His gaze drifted away from hers briefly, but in those few seconds he caught a glimpse of that alluring crème gown, closely followed by the impeccable dark uniform of the Duke she had been dancing with. He gripped his fingers tightly, resisting the urge to run to her. It appeared they were leaving the ballroom. Then he remembered that he was being impolite, ignoring a perfectly sensible young woman, who it seemed, was vying for his attention.

"Of course." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll send for you tomorrow if you like? Perhaps take a stroll in the park?"

"That would be lovely, Lord Downton."

"Robert, please." He never cared much for formalities, at least not when his mother was around.

Eleanor folded her hands in front of her, a slight blush returning to her cheeks. "If you insist, Robert."

Robert's smile widened, though he instantly regretted leading her on, as unintentional as it was. He kept glancing at the glass doors that led back to the great hall of the house, wondering where the woman who captured his attention had gone. "If you'll excuse me, Miss Marsden, I'd best check in with my sister. I've monopolized your time already."

"Not at all," she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. It seemed she was just as startled by her boldness as Robert for they both took a step back from each other. "I'm terribly sorry, that was too forward of me."

"Nonsense. We both danced together, quite well in fact. The gesture was entirely appropriate."

The sound of string instruments being retuned for the next song lured couples back onto the dance floor. Robert was relieved once Eleanor's next dance partner approached them and she graciously took his outstretched hand.

"Until tomorrow," she said, showing off that crooked smile.

He nodded his head. "Yes. Until then."

When they finally disappeared amongst the crowd, Robert made for the glass doors, exiting the ballroom with haste. He scarcely remembered seeing his sister, Rosamund, newly presented, staring after him as he scurried away.

He passed several liveried footmen lining the walls of the great hall, greeting new arrivals and sending off those embarking for home. He searched everywhere for her, the drawing room, the library, the picture room, even the private music room that housed a grand piano. But she wasn't there.

Twisting the toe of his polished shoe on the marble flooring, Robert turned around and meandered back to the ballroom, not wanting to dance with anyone but her. It was silly, he thought. Pining away for a woman he knew nothing about, least of all her name. But that first glimpse of her as she'd arrived sent his pulse racing. She wasn't like any of the English girls he knew so well, or the ones his mother kept pushing at him. There was a different air about her that he couldn't quite figure out. She remained a mystery to him until the moment their eyes met, briefly, as she twirled past him in the arms of a duke.

He came to a stop at the wall of windows overlooking the garden and courtyard of the stately home. It was dark out, the summer sun having faded quite some time ago. He wondered if it was cooler outside or just as stifling as the crowded ballroom. He pushed through the French doors to his left and felt the refreshing July air glide across his cheeks, the slight breeze ruffling his styled hair.

Robert followed the stone footpaths through the garden, admiring what he could from the bleak glow of the gas lamps lining the exterior of the house. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wondering if it was acceptable to decline the request he made of Miss Marsden. She was a lovely young woman, but she didn't captivate him like the mystery girl he sought after. He wasn't sure if it was love at first sight or just an infatuation. He wanted to know her, whoever she was.

His Mama would be pleased that he found someone he deemed worthy of marriage. It was, after all, her intention of sending him along to Rosamund's coming-out that he consider his options, preferably one of esteemed standards and wealth. If only he could find her and the infernal Duke who seemed to be lusting after her. Robert balled his hands into a fist at the thought, now realizing that he was no better. He had never been so infatuated with a girl before, but he knew that he would never use his aristocratic title to prove how powerful he could be. He was glad he wouldn't be inheriting a dukedom. Being an earl was grand enough, and he hoped his future countess felt the same.

He rounded a stone fountain in the shape of an angelic cherub, its pointed wings and child-like face angled up to the heavens. Robert wasn't sure if it was the buzzing of the insects floating around him or his imagination, but he could distinctly hear something, or someone, just beyond the line of short trees at the end of the path. He drew closer, careful to keep as quiet as possible.

Robert peered around the tree and his breath caught in his throat. She was there, sitting on a stone bench, her exquisite crème gown looked wrinkled and dirty. Her shoulders shook with the muffled sobs she tried to hide in the palms of her hands. He suddenly felt protective of her and so he pushed his way through the short branches, not caring if his evening coat was scratched or torn. "Excuse me?" Robert said, keeping his voice low and soft.

The young girl flinched as she turned around to face the stranger. She recognized him at once. How could she forget the tall handsome man she locked eyes with in the ballroom? Looking up at him, he seemed genuinely concerned.

"May I?" Robert gestured to the stone bench she was sitting on.

She nodded and moved over to let him sit down.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Robert began, "but I noticed that you were out here alone." He kept his gaze down at the ground, noticing a short tear at the end of her gown that split through the stains of dirt and grass peppering the delicate material. Anger boiled deep within him, thinking that the Duke must somehow be responsible for her current state of distress.

"I haven't been out here long," she said, like him, choosing to stare down at her feet.

Her American accent surprised him, but Robert found it to be music to his ears, the soft and exotic cadence of it. "Are you all right?" He dug around in the inside pocket of his coat, eventually pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to her.

The girl nodded, taking the outstretched piece of cloth without hesitance. She wiped at the corner of her eyes and across her cheeks.

"Did something happen?"

"I lost my footing is all," she said, turning to face him.

Robert could hardly breathe. They sat close to each other but kept a respectable distance between them. In the soft glow of the light illuminating the footpaths, those captivating blue eyes never looked more beautiful to him. The skin of her face was pale, but it was complimented by a slender nose and dark, shapely lips. Oh how he wanted to take her in his arms, to finally know what it felt like. He knew she was keeping the truth from him, but it wasn't his place to know her business. They hardly knew each other.

Robert curled his fingers around the sharp edge of the stone bench. "You can tell me the truth. I won't criticize. I'd merely like to help."

"That's very kind of you," she said, letting her statement dangle in hopes that he would supply his name.

"I'm Robert Crawley—or Lord Downton to be more precise."

"Cora Levinson. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I-I noticed you in the ballroom earlier."

 _Cora_. It was such a lovely name. But how could he explain the lengths he went to find her without making himself look a fool? "I noticed you as well. I'm sure the Duke found you just as charming." His eyes widened, realizing what he said, and he glanced away, feeling embarrassed.

The heat rose in Cora's cheeks. He was different from the men her mother introduced her to, not quite shy, definitely reserved as most Englishmen were, but also polite and honest. "Thank you," she said, resting her hand on top of his, which was curled around the edge of the bench.

Robert looked down at their hands, enjoying the softness and the warmth she created by one simple touch. He uncurled his fingers, letting them entwine with hers. Their eyes met and Robert couldn't help himself. "Will you save me a place on your dance card?" he asked. "Because I'd very much like to dance with you, Cora."

Cora smiled, loving the way the sound of her name rolled off his tongue, coupled with the accent that was so familiar it seemed natural. She was about to agree, but then remembered the state of her dress, ripped at the hem and stained with scuffs of dirt and grass. "I can't," she breathed out, shaking her head. "I mean, I can't go back in there. My dress is ruined. What will everyone think if they see me like this?"

"Did he—I mean, did the Duke do something to you? Did he force you to—"

"No!" Cora shook her head vehemently. "He made advances, yes, but it was my own fault for leading him on."

"Cora, you can tell me. It'll be just between us—I promise."

The softness with which he spoke to her warmed her insides. She gripped his hand tight, letting the contact soothe her for the time being. She swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "He embraced me and . . . the intensity of it shocked me, so I pushed him away. He grew angry and took hold of my arm, squeezing it forcefully."

She began to cry again and Robert reached over for her other hand, holding them together. "I managed to free myself from his grip," she continued, sniffling, "but the ends of my dress caught the edge of a metal planter and I stumbled. He just left me there on the ground and turned back inside. I made a fool of myself in front of a duke. Mother will be disappointed, angry, now that my best evening gown is ruined."

Cora pulled away from Robert and buried her face in one of her hands. Now she was making a fool of herself in front of him too, which was the last thing she wanted to have happen. She held a certain liking to him already.

"You don't have to go back inside. We can dance right here." He shook his head. "That is, if you want to."

Cora looked up at him, a few tears sliding down her cheeks. What a sweet gesture, but how could they when there was no music to dance to? And what if someone should find them? Surely she would never be granted an invitation to another grand ball again. But his blue eyes held such care and gentleness she couldn't refuse him. Nodding her head, Cora allowed Robert to help her up to her feet and guide her to an open area of the courtyard.

Robert closed his eyes at the feeling of finally having her in his arms, at long last. They could remain together for as long as they wanted. There was no orchestra or single men and women looking for a partner to dictate their dance together. It was a moment of peace both of them desperately needed.

Taking the lead, Robert maneuvered her around the courtyard, delighted by how well of a dancer she truly was. They danced in silence for several minutes, enjoying the fresh air surrounding them, until he pulled her closer, slowing his movements. He wouldn't dare such a presumptuous move in a public ballroom, but she felt so natural there in his arms that he couldn't resist having her so near. He leaned forward, letting his cheek rest against the top of her head.

Cora closed her eyes as they swayed together, forming slow, melodic circles. She let out a quiet gasp when she felt him lean closer. She'd never been in such proximity to a man before, other than her father of course. It was so very different than her dance with the Duke. Robert was kind and gentle, where _he_ was not. She never wanted it to end. But when he did stop, she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face.

"Thank you," she whispered next to his ear. They had yet to pull apart from each other.

"Please say you'll see me again, Cora? I don't want to forget about you just yet."

Cora stepped back from him, surprised. Coming from any other man, she would have given some excuse, but before she could even form the words to agree, she was nodding her head. "Yes. I'd like that very much."

Robert smiled, his stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and twirl her around. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. For once he felt truly happy. He wasn't proposing marriage yet, but he had a bad feeling that his mother would not approve of him spending his spare time with an American.

Robert knew Downton and its estate was crumbling financially and that his father suggested he secure a young heiress's fortune, but could he really give up a lifetime of happiness with the right girl for a secure estate and a loveless marriage?

"Robert?" Cora shook his arm gently, pulling him out of his reverie. "Might we go back inside? It's starting to feel rather cold out here."

Robert shook his head. "Of course." Then he glanced down at her ruined gown. She was right. She couldn't step back inside that ballroom looking like that. "You were right. We can't have everyone seeing you like this." He gestured to her dress. "I'll have a carriage arranged to take you home."

"But my mother. She attended with me. How will I explain . . ."

"I can have a message sent that you went home early due to illness. I'll have another carriage arranged for your mother as well. Where are you staying so that I might find you?"

Cora bit down on her lip, feeling hesitant to give such personal information to a man she just met. But she felt like they'd known one another for years. He was so kind to her, and she did agree to see him again. "We're staying in Berkley Square. Do you know it?"

"Not as well as I should. Our London house is on Belgrave Square, not too far from here actually."

"I confess, I haven't explored the city much."

"Then I shall be your guide, Miss Levinson," Robert said, bowing graciously. It was the first time he heard her laugh and he found he liked it just as much as her accent.

"You're too kind, Lord Downton." Cora gave him her best curtsy, sending them both into another fit of laughter.

After regaining their breath, he held out his arm and Cora accepted, letting him walk her back to the house. Robert stayed with her in the great hall as he instructed a footman to call for a carriage and then send word to Cora's mother that she would be leaving.

In a matter of minutes, a carriage had pulled up outside and Robert helped Cora inside, letting his hand remain in hers far longer than what propriety deemed appropriate.

"I'll call on you tomorrow?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

Cora nodded. "You may. Perhaps I'll even let you stay for dinner. Then I can introduce you to my mother. I'm sure she'll want to meet you after all that's happened tonight."

Robert tried to keep his smile genuine. He didn't dislike meeting the parents of women he occasionally took out, it was the constant pressure they put him under being an eligible bachelor with a title. And nobody put him under such pressure as his mama, especially now that the estate was in dire need of an influx in capital.

"I'd be delighted to meet your mother," Robert said. "Goodnight, Miss Levinson." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, letting his thumb brush across her knuckles. He glanced up at her and their eyes met. There were no words for how Robert felt in that moment. Her cheeks were tinged a light shade of red and her smile stretched up to her ears. He believed he could make this woman happy, and she him.

"Goodnight . . . Robert." Cora let go of his hand and as he stepped back the carriage lurched forward.

Robert watched her disappear, the _clop-clop_ of the horse's hooves on the cobblestone street reverberated in his ears, until the rhythm of it became a distant echo. He remained outside for several minutes, Cora long gone by now, when a swift breeze tickled his ears, causing him to shiver. He turned around, a bit dismayed that the footman who called for the carriage was still waiting for him. He climbed the few steps and nodded his thanks then slipped through the doorway, his sister and Miss Marsden far from his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter took much longer than I wanted to write but here we are. I'd like to thank the few of you who have reviewed this story so far, it's very much appreciated. The next update is a bit uncertain as I'm currently in the middle of writing another story for a different fandom, so I'll be going back and forth between the two for a while. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

Chapter Two

It was nearly midnight by the time Cora entered the Levinson's rented townhouse in Berkley Square. The butler who greeted her made no indication of his curiosity at the sight of her ruined dress as he held the front door open.

"I'll head straight to bed," Cora instructed him. "Please have Andrews meet me in my room."

The butler nodded. "Certainly, miss." He watched her climb the stairs before retreating to the servants' hall.

Though she would normally wait for her maid, Cora began undoing her hair, pulling out the many pins that were used to hold the design together. Once free, she ran her fingers through the waves and curls of her long hair, finding that a few blades of grass came free. She flicked them away towards the small wastepaper basket next to her vanity, thinking back to her horrible confrontation with the Duke.

She hadn't meant to lead him on as strongly as she did. She liked him, at first, for he was quite handsome and polite. They'd danced beautifully together, and Cora thought maybe she had found the gentleman her mother was so desperately searching for, until he suggested that they retire somewhere private, to a place devoid of prying eyes and listening ears. Without thinking, she had agreed.

Cora looked down at her dress, fingering the delicate, silk material that wasn't damaged. She had refused the Duke's demanding kiss and instead of an apology he'd become angry, violent even. No, as grand as the title of Duchess would be to her and her family, marriage to a man with a heated temper would never be worth it.

She sighed and carefully pulled out her dangling diamond earrings, stowing them away in the small jewelry box her father gave her for her fifteenth birthday. He told her he'd found it in an antiques shop during one of his visits to New York City. She admired the elegance of the carved, wooden box. It was stained and polished in a deep red-brown with ornate edges and a sterling-topped lid, a soft, red velvet inside to keep her most valuable jewels safe from damage.

But the thought of her father made Cora miss him even more. He stayed behind in America with her younger brother, Harold, to manage the family business and its investments. They wrote often, sometimes several times a week, but the letters never came chronologically. She didn't mind. Just seeing her father's or her brother's handwriting was enough to brighten even the most dreary of English afternoons.

A light knock sounded on her door and Cora turned around, seeing her maid, Andrews, step in. "You're back early, miss," the young woman said, moving to stand in front of Cora. "I was expecting to be woken in the middle of the night."

Cora smiled. Elizabeth Andrews was her maid of three years now, and though they were roughly the same age, Cora thought of her more as a sister than a maid. They enjoyed gossiping on the latest news Elizabeth heard from the other servants and Cora often swapped stories about the juiciest scandals and upcoming nuptials she overheard her mother discussing. Both were beyond excited at the prospect of exploring a new country together, but the two hardly had time for gallivanting around London like schoolgirls. Cora was constantly under her mother's scrutiny in preparation for the ceremony where she was to be presented at court. She'd done well enough, as Martha told her often, but she needed to dazzle if she wanted to gain the attention of an eligible bachelor with a title.

"I'd just like to be out of this dress," Cora said, standing from the chair at her vanity.

Elizabeth gasped at the sight of her mistress's gown. "Cora!" She shook her head, momentarily forgetting her place. "I mean, Miss Cora, what happened to your dress?"

Cora ignored her maid's imploring question. "Do you think you can fix it without letting my mother know?"

Elizabeth bent down and picked up the torn hem to examine it. "I can't promise much, but I'll see what I can do." She wondered about the stains but knew better than to ask.

Cora smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. "Thank you." She turned around to allow her maid to undo the buttons at the back.

"So how was it?" Elizabeth asked.

Cora kept her gaze trained on a painting hung just above her vanity. "Hmm?"

"The ball?"

"Oh, of course. It was . . ." Cora tried not to think of the Duke. "It was very eye-opening."

Elizabeth finished with the last button and then carefully began peeling the short sleeves of Cora's dress down. "Does that mean you've found someone?"

"What?" Cora spun around quickly, almost tripping over her dress as it slid down her thin frame.

"Careful!" Elizabeth reached out to steady her. "You know, one of those wealthy, handsome princes or whatever they call them here."

Cora straightened herself, as much as she could with her restricting corset. "Oh, not really." But she blushed as she thought of Robert—Lord Downton to be more precise.

Elizabeth giggled, seeing her friend's face turn red. "There is someone, then."

"No!" Cora shook her head. "I mean, I did meet someone, yes. He was very kind—we danced, of course."

"And?"

Cora turned her head slightly to look back at her maid. "And I may have agreed to let him call on me tomorrow."

"Will we be seeing him often, then?"

Cora let out a breath as she was finally freed from her corset. She slipped on her dressing gown and turned around to face Elizabeth. "I like him, but I don't know."

"Only time will tell, I suppose."

"Yes, quite right."

Elizabeth scooped up her mistress's soiled gown, allowing it to drape over both of her arms. "If there isn't anything else . . ."

Cora sat down on the edge of her bed. "No, thank you, Elizabeth. Goodnight."

Elizabeth bowed her head. "Goodnight, Cora."

Once her maid had left, Cora shrugged out of her dressing gown and climbed into bed. She smoothed the bedsheets out then reached for her book on the bedside table. As much as she wanted to read, her mind kept drifting to the handsome face of Lord Downton—Robert, as he preferred to be called.

She didn't know what to think of his sudden interest in her. For all she knew, he was just being polite on account of her distress. But there was something strange in the way he held her as they danced. They'd been so close to one another it was deemed inappropriate by most of society. But Cora felt comfortable with Robert, not at all worried that he would take advantage of her like the Duke.

She closed her book and slipped it back on her nightstand, deciding that she couldn't concentrate enough to read. She turned down the gas lamp and rolled over onto her side, remembering what it was like to be held in the arms of a gentleman. Her mother was bound to give her a lecture in the morning, but Cora tried not to dwell on it.

She was tired of being pulled like a puppet and dressed like a doll to fit the English standards of society. Perhaps that's why she missed America and her father so much. It was a whole different world here in England. She didn't understand. She could have just as elegant of a life and marriage to one of the boys who was keen on her from back home. But her dear mother wanted more than just wealth and comfort; she wanted a daughter who was noble, and Cora didn't think she could picture herself as such.

But Mr. Crawley—she liked the sound of that rather than his title—apparently found her charming enough to want to see her again. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Cora turned over onto her other side, feeling too stressed to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and pictured his handsome face, those blue eyes that were bright and full of life, his prominent chin that looked as if it had been sculpted by an artist, and that head of dark hair. She wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through it. Her heart thumped faster, recalling how soft his lips felt when he kissed her hand.

Her eyes popped open, realizing that her breathing had gone heavy and that she felt rather warm. She thought of ringing Elizabeth for a glass of water, but didn't want to disturb her. She already thrust enough work on her with the damaged dress it hardly seemed worth it to wake her maid.

Bound to put him to the back of her mind, Cora once again tried to sleep, thinking back to her life in America. Instead of the bustle of New York and the beaches of Newport, the handsome young man in white tie and tails somehow managed to invade her dreams.

. . .

The following morning, Robert spent most of breakfast ignoring his sister, Rosamund, who kept asking questions about his sudden disappearance at the ball the previous night.

"Please, Robert," Rosamund begged, staring across the table at her brother, "stop keeping us in suspense."

"What's this, then?" asked Patrick Crawley, the present Earl of Grantham. He turned in his chair to face his son, his brow furrowed.

Robert shook his head. "It's nothing, Papa. Rosamund exaggerates when all I needed was some fresh air. You know how stuffy those ballrooms can be, all the fumes from those gaslights can be quite stifling."

Patrick frowned. "Ah, yes. Of course."

"He's evading the truth," Rosamund continued, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, will you shut up!" Robert finally snapped, throwing down his cloth napkin with such force his silverware rattled against his breakfast plate. He stood up from his chair, not caring that their family butler, Barrington, was witness to such a spectacle.

"Robert!" his father roared. "Sit back down this instant! You will apologize to your sister at once for your tawdry language!"

Robert balled his hands into fists at his sides. He spoke through clenched teeth, "I apologize, Rosamund, for my _tawdry_ language." He adjusted the cuffs of his cream-colored linen suit, still glaring at his sister. "Now I must go. I have an important meeting and I mustn't be late."

Patrick huffed out a deep breath once his son made his exit. "I swear, what's gotten into him? He was perfectly fine yesterday."

Rosamund pushed around the remains of her breakfast, feeling chastised. "I suspect it has to do with last night's ball."

"Hmm, I see."

Rosamund looked up at her father, who turned back to reading the morning paper. She knew her brother was under pressure to find a wealthy girl to marry, but it unnerved her how her parents didn't seem to care one bit about Robert's happiness. It was all for the good of the estate, they said. But she wanted to know what _did_ happen at that ball the previous night to make him so tetchy the following morning. And knowing her brother, Rosamund was going to have to wheedle it out of him until he squirmed.

Robert left Grantham House as fast as he could. He hardly slept at the prospect of seeing Cora again. It had taken some time to find her exact address, but he thanked the footman who had sent the mother home. The Levinsons, as he found out, were renting a modest townhouse in Berkley Square. It was on the opposite end of Green Park and Robert felt the walk, though not a short one, would be refreshing, despite the heat of mid-July.

He stopped briefly on the corner of Piccadilly and Berkley Street to check his pocket watch. It was nearly noon and the heat seemed to be insufferable already. Replacing his watch, he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He couldn't very well show up on Miss Levinson's doorstep looking like a hard-worked farmer. Perhaps he should have taken a carriage instead? He shook his head, taking in a breath, and continued up the street.

Robert found the house easily enough. He rang the bell and less than a minute later the door opened, revealing the wrinkled face of the family's butler.

"May I help you, sir?" the butler asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Yes, I'm Robert Crawley. I've come for Miss Levinson," Robert said. "Is she in?" The butler's hardened expression made Robert uncomfortable at first, but he let out a relieved breath when the man finally stepped aside, holding the door open further to allow him entrance.

"I believe she's in the sitting room, sir. I'll let her know of your arrival."

"Thank you." Stepping inside to the foyer, Robert removed his hat, feeling relief from the slightly cool temperature of the house. It wasn't as grand as Grantham House, but still elegant none the less. He gazed up at the high ceiling, which reminded him of some of the rooms at Downton. He turned at the sound of growing voices emanating from an adjacent room.

"Mother, I already explained what happened," he heard Cora's voice, sounding somewhat irritated.

"Cora, darling, I thought I taught you better." That must be the mother, Robert discerned. "You do not accept an invitation from a man unless I say it's acceptable."

"It always has to be acceptable, doesn't it, Mother? Why can't I explore the city? Oh, because it isn't sensible for proper young ladies."

"Cora Levinson—oh dear, excuse me!" Martha exclaimed, putting a hand to her chest at the sight of the strange gentleman standing in the foyer.

Robert glanced first at Cora, noting how lovely she looked in her pale blue dress with white lace, then to her mother. He stepped forward to introduce himself. "I'm Robert Crawley. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Levinson."

Martha raised an eyebrow at the young man's etiquette. She extended a hand for him to take, which he politely did, leaving a gentle kiss to the back of it. "Heavens! Quite the gentleman."

Cora crossed her arms over her chest. "I told you he was a gentleman, Mother."

"Don't be smart, Cora. You know it doesn't suit you," Martha said, giving her daughter a chastising look. "And uncross your arms. We have a guest."

Robert fingered the rim of his hat, uncertain how to navigate the waters of the Levinson women. "I apologize, Mrs. Levinson, for such short notice."

"Please, call me Martha."

"Of course. You see, your daughter and I shared a dance at last night's ball," Robert explained, "and I suggested to show Cora around London. That is, if it's acceptable?"

Martha grew quiet all of a sudden, looking Robert up and down, deciding whether to let her daughter run about the city with a stranger. "I'll agree to let Cora go," she decided, "as long as her maid follows along with you."

Cora let out an exasperated sigh. Could her mother further embarrass her? "I don't think bringing Andrews is necessary, Mother."

"Certainly it is," Martha said. "An unmarried young woman is never seen out in public without a chaperone."

"That's perfectly acceptable, Mrs. Levinson—erm, Martha," Robert intervened, sensing the tension between mother and daughter. "I don't mind if Cora's maid comes along."

"You see, Cora." Martha turned to look at her daughter. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I'll ring for Andrews then," Cora sighed as she slipped past her mother, giving Robert a somewhat shy smile, and made for the grand staircase.

"Now, Robert, was it?" Martha asked him. "You must tell me which part of England you're from." Without hesitation, she took Robert's arm and led him to the sitting room.

Feeling flustered, Robert let the loud, unusual red-haired woman guide him away. He couldn't help but gaze back at Cora, admiring her backside as she stiffly ascended the stairs. No matter the conditions, there was nothing that would stop him from seeing her. The mother might be a little brash and over-bearing, but then again, so was his own mother. Perhaps their families just might get along?

"How were you able to dodge your maid?" Robert asked Cora once they began their walk down Berkley Street.

"Andrews and I are rather close, you could say," Cora replied, giving him a smirk and a sideways glance.

"Surely your mother will discover you've been out with a man unaccompanied."

Cora flicked her wrist. "She won't talk. Anyway, I hardly know anyone in London." She pointed to a man standing outside a shop on the other side of the street. "For all we know that man over there probably thinks we're siblings."

"Or a young couple."

Cora turned her head sharply to look at him, not quite believing what she just heard.

Robert cleared his throat. "Forgive me, I just seem to say whatever's on my mind lately. I'm not sure why . . ."

Cora twisted her parasol in her hand, focusing on the park that was ahead. "It's quite all right. I'm guilty of the same thing myself sometimes, usually around Andrews."

"Your maid?" She nodded and Robert smiled. "I think that's a wonderful thing—having someone close you can talk to."

Cora hesitated a moment before asking, "What about you, Robert? Do you have someone close you can talk to?"

As they entered Green Park, Robert centered his attention on his walking stick. "I believe so," he finally replied. "Though I wouldn't say we're as close as you are with your maid."

"I suppose it's different between men than it is with women."

Robert turned his head to look at her. Her cream-colored and embroidered parasol covered much of the left half of her face, but what he could see from under the brim of her sun hat looked radiant. Her chestnut hair he remembered had a reddish tint now that they were outside and seemed to shine under the summer sun. Her pale cheeks took on a rosy hue from the heat and he felt his heart racing to catch up with the many thoughts that swam through his head. He couldn't take his eyes off her and by now she could probably sense that he was staring.

"Yes, I suppose you could say so," he said, though she must not have understood what he meant earlier about confiding in someone close. He already felt connected to her, if you could call it that. It would only sound foolish if he said so out loud.

"Are you an only child?" Cora asked, finding herself curious to know more about him.

Robert felt a bit surprised by her question. But he felt it was appropriate, especially if he planned on courting her. "I have an older sister actually—Rosamund." He chuckled. "We usually don't see eye to eye. You're more likely to find us arguing than anything else."

Cora smiled. "It's like that with my brother as well."

"Is he also in England with your family?"

"No. Harold—my brother—and my father stayed behind in America so they could keep the family business running."

"Where in America are you from? I've never been there, but I've heard it's a vast place."

"Oh, it is!" In her excitement over his question, Cora reached over to touch his arm. "I'm originally from Cincinnati—that's the Midwest—but when my father's business grew we moved east to New York and now we have a summer home in Newport as well."

Robert remained captivated by the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of her home country. He imagined rugged hills and plains and industrial cities. It sounded like a dream—a dream he might like to explore one day. "Newport? That's on the coast, correct?"

"Yes. I just love the ocean and its beaches."

Robert felt himself getting bold, but he couldn't help it. Everything about her seemed to mesmerize him: the accent, her beauty, even her exotic tales of America. He just hoped she wasn't already attached to someone.

"The southern and western coasts of England are quite beautiful," Robert said. He extended an arm. "Beaches that stretch on for miles and not a house to be seen. It's rather quiet down there, but I always loved our family visits, as rare as they were."

"Now that you've mentioned it, I should like to venture there myself."

Robert turned to face her again. "Would you?"

They passed a stone fountain and Cora let her fingers skim across the surface of the water, imagining the beaches and the ocean Robert described for her. "Oh, yes. I've never traveled this far before, let alone set foot in a foreign country. I'd very much enjoy the possibility of exploring it."

Robert couldn't contain himself. His heart was beating twice as fast and he could feel the sweat running down the back of his neck, saturating the stiff collar of his white shirt. If only he wasn't tied to an estate he would take Cora that very instant. He could picture the two of them walking down the beaches of Dorset, paddling through the ocean as the waves lapped at their bare ankles, helping each other scale the many towering cliffs that lined the coast. Maybe someday, he thought, letting out a wistful sigh. Maybe someday.

"As I promised I would, I shall be your guide, Miss Levinson," Robert said, returning to the present.

"And you've done a fabulous job thus far, Lord Downton."

They both chuckled at the formalities. Neither worried about the familial pressures surrounding them; they could remain free . . . for a time.

As the heat seemed to rise and their clothes continued to grow slick with their sweat, Robert steered them towards the exit of the park. "I know a place I think you'll enjoy."

A playful smirk spread across Cora's lips. "Are you that certain, Lord Downton?"

He turned his head to look at her. "Yes, Miss Levinson, I am."

In a matter of minutes they left Green Park and crossed the street to Hyde Park. They followed the footpaths, Robert leading the way as Cora talked more about her younger years growing up in the Midwest.

They came to a stop at the edge of the Serpentine, a forty acre lake situated in the middle of the park. Gaggles of geese littered the walkways and grass, scavenging for signs of food. Cora smiled, delighted at the sight of swans floating elegantly on the surface of the water, some of them stopping at the edge where children gathered to feed them.

"Would you like to feed them?" Robert asked, taking note of how wide her smile stretched.

Cora nodded emphatically. She was used to geese and seagulls back home in America, but the sight of a white swan up close was incredible. "I would, very much so."

Robert walked over to the man selling bags of bread crumbs and wheat. He gestured for Cora to join him next to the small group of children. He poured the food onto the palm of his hand and held it out to the swarming swans.

"Does it hurt?" Cora said, now a bit hesitant at feeding them.

Robert chuckled, watching the swan pecking at his hand. "Not really. It just tickles. Here, you try it."

Cora let Robert pour a small amount of food onto her hand. She held it out and in seconds two swans battled for the rights to the bread crumbs. Cora laughed lightly, the sensation of the orange beaks tickling her palm and fingers. "You're right. It does tickle."

They fed the swans what was left in the leather pouch Robert purchased then retired to an iron bench that overlooked the lake.

"It's so beautiful here in the summer," Cora commented, folding her parasol down and adjusting the brim of her tan sun hat.

"It is," Robert replied, "at least when it isn't raining."

Cora laughed. "Yes. I've been here for all of two months and already I'm starting to tire of it."

Robert laughed along with her, enjoying how easy it was to be around her. He pointed at the lake. "You know a friend of mine from Eton participates in the swimming competition they have here every Christmas morning."

"Isn't it rather cold for swimming outdoors?"

"Extremely, which is why you have to be an excellent swimmer."

"I'm sure."

They grew quiet and Robert took the time to observe Cora more closely. He noticed details he hadn't seen when they were together last night in the garden at the ball. She had a few freckles spotting her cheeks, most likely from summers spent in Newport, and thick, elegant eyelashes framing those captivating blue eyes of hers. He glanced down at her hands, which were holding the curled end of her parasol. He left his walking stick to lean against the arm of the bench. He wanted desperately to hold her hand again, but knew better than to risk such a display in a public park. He wasn't formally courting Cora yet, but he could easily imagine spending his days away from his family to be with her.

"Cora?" Robert said, fully intending to ask her permission to court her.

She turned to face him, squinting against the sun. "Yes, Robert?"

He licked his dry lips, silently cursing the terrible heat. He could feel himself sweating again, now nervous that she might decline his offer. His fingers twitched and fidgeted as he tried in vain to form the words. Finally, he took a deep breath. "I know we've only just met, but I've so enjoyed my time with you."

He stood up from the bench and Cora straightened her back, feeling slightly afraid that he was going to propose to her. "Robert, what are you saying?"

He reached out for her hand and she tentatively placed it in his open palm. "Cora Levinson," he began, "would you grant me permission to court you?"

Cora leaned back against the bench, sighing with relief. She wanted to be married someday, but now seemed much too soon. She gripped his hand, letting their fingers naturally entwine. She took a moment to think, not tearing her eyes from his. He was a handsome young man, maybe a year or two older than she, and he wasn't the first to take an interest in her since her arrival in England. But he was the most persistent, even though they'd only known each other for a short day. She needed to think carefully, knowing that if she agreed he was most likely going to propose marriage sometime in the near future. He'd ask for her parents' permission as well, she knew, but was she ready to give up what little freedom she had as a single woman? It wasn't love yet—certainly great affection and friendship, but there was definitely something more between them, she could feel it.

"Well?" Robert said gently, pulling Cora from her reverie. "May I?"

After giving it one last thought, Cora smiled. "Yes, you may."

Upon hearing her answer, Robert wanted to leap for joy. Instead, he smiled so broadly his cheeks began to ache. He carefully pulled Cora up to her feet so they were standing face to face. "Oh, my darling, you have no idea how happy I am," he said, bringing her hand up to his lips.

He knew he shouldn't have done it with so many people meandering about, but he couldn't help it. She was the loveliest woman he'd set eyes upon the entire season. He was aware that he needed a wealthy heiress to save his family's estate and Robert cared for Downton just as much as his parents did, but there was so much more to life than just having a title. And he suspected that this American girl just may be his ticket to a long and happy life.

Cora stepped closer to him, putting her free hand to his cheek. "You'll still have to get permission from my parents."

Robert nodded. "Of course. But what about your father? He's in America."

Cora let her fingers smooth over the fine hairs above his ear. "You'll have to write to him, once my mother agrees that is."

"When shall we tell her?"

"Over dinner. We'll make a formal announcement."

Robert's eyes widened. This was all progressing much quicker than he thought. "Tonight?"

Cora shook her head. "No. How about next week? I'll arrange everything with Mother when I return then send out an invitation. I assume your parents will want to hear the news as well?"

Robert's smile faded slightly, momentarily forgetting that aspect under their air of happiness. "Yes, I suppose they will."

"Good, then it's all settled."

His grin returned at seeing how happy she looked. "I can't describe to you, Cora, how truly happy I am. You're so kind and beautiful."

Cora felt her heart flutter at his words. "Oh, Robert. I wish we were alone. I don't think I could stand another minute without kissing you properly."

Robert closed his eyes briefly, imagining such a scene. "Let's not rush it," he said, gazing back into her eyes. "We'll find the right moment."

"Yes, I believe we will."

Robert took hold of his walking stick, letting Cora take his left arm. "Shall we?" She opened her parasol and they began their walk back the way they came, remaining silent but content with their newfound relationship.

As they distanced themselves from the lake, Robert tensed when he recognized Eleanor Marsden walking towards them. He suddenly remembered that he had promised her at the ball that he would take her for a stroll in the park. He quickly glanced at Cora by his side, pretending not to show recognition.

"Lord Downton," Eleanor said, stopping the couple. "I'm glad I found you."

Robert tipped his hat. "Good afternoon, Miss Marsden."

Eleanor seemed a bit surprised by the sight of Robert's companion. "I see you have company."

"Yes. This is Cora Levinson," he said, introducing the two women. "Cora, this is Eleanor Marsden, we, um, met at last night's ball."

"How lovely," Cora said, holding out her hand. "I'd never been to a ball quite as grand as that before."

Eleanor weakly took hold of Cora's outstretched hand, unfamiliar with the girl's unusual form of greeting. She forced a smile, turning to face Robert. "Yes. It was quite splendid. I very much enjoyed our dance together, Lord Downton."

Robert could feel the sweat pooling at the collar of his shirt, beads of perspiration forming at the top of his forehead. "Of course. Though we all had our fair share of dancing."

"Yes. But I was disappointed when you didn't show up to collect me for our walk today," Eleanor said, her lips forming a pout. "I was lucky enough to run into you this afternoon."

"Robert, is that true?" Cora asked, turning to look at him.

Robert swallowed hard, realizing the trouble he'd put himself into. "Yes, but that was before I met you."

Cora extracted her arm from Robert's. "I thought you were a gentleman, Robert Crawley. I should have known better, what with my string of bad luck here."

"Cora," Robert tried to explain, "that's not how it is between us."

Eleanor seemed to be forgotten between the two as she watched their heated exchange, amusement edging her features.

Cora looked away from him, peering over at Eleanor. "I started to trust you. I accepted your offer."

"Don't tell me you're engaged already," Eleanor gasped, her voice almost a squeak.

Robert glared at her. How dare she interfere with his private life! "We're not engaged, and frankly, it's none of your bloody business, Miss Marsden."

Eleanor reached up to touch her forehead, swaying as if she might faint. "I say!"

"Robert!" Cora hissed under her breath. "What an awful thing to say to her!"

Robert sighed deeply. "I apologize, Miss Marsden, for the way I spoke to you. I merely dismissed our previous engagement on account of my distractions. I don't mean to sound crass, but I fully intend to court Miss Levinson—that is, if she'll still have me?" He turned once more to look at Cora. She seemed to have softened a bit from her burst of anger, which was a good sign.

Even though he had given another woman the wrong impression, he apologized, which to Cora, showed how serious he was about the two of them. "Yes, Robert, you still have me." To reassure him, she took hold of his hand, gripping it tight.

Eleanor frowned, almost sneering. "If that is your decision, I wish you all the happiness in the world, Lord Downton. I apologize if I caused a scene earlier, though you two should really be careful about how you conduct yourselves in public. You never know where a journalist may be lurking. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall be off. Perhaps we'll run into each other again?" She left the question dangling as she brushed past the couple, the skirts of her dark plum dress ruffling as she went.

Once Eleanor was gone, Robert further tried to explain himself, "I'm terribly sorry, Cora. I know what you must think of me and there's no good reason for you to accept my courtship of you after what transpired, but I'm pleased that you have—truly I am."

"Robert—"

He held his hand up. "I must finish what I want to say." He paused, taking the moment to look deep into her eyes. "It's true that I offered to take Miss Marsden for a stroll through the park, but then I met you and nothing else seemed to matter." He took her other hand. "I can't lose you yet, Cora, not when we've barely started."

"As I said earlier, you still have me. I'm not going anywhere."

Robert felt relieved. The sight of Eleanor put him in a state of panic he'd been so afraid of what she might say. Propriety be damned! he thought, pulling Cora against him, their arms wrapping around each other. He pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, "Thank God for you."

He almost lost his best chance at happiness. Under no circumstances would he allow that to happen again. "I think we should be heading back," he said, pulling back from their embrace. He removed his pocket watch to check the time. "Your maid's probably wondering where we've gone to."

Cora agreed. "I suppose one can only peruse evening dresses and frocks for so long."

Robert held out his arm. "Shall we try this again?"

She smiled, taking hold of his arm. As they resumed their walk back, Cora couldn't help but think how lucky she was to have met Robert. She held a great deal of affection for him already, feeling certain that love would come soon enough. He had a title, which she knew her mother would be happy about, but that didn't seem to matter to Cora as much as she thought it would.

They walked in silence, but Cora took a moment to gaze at him. His light three-piece suit was elegantly tailored to fit his broad shoulders and tall frame. His hair seemed curlier than it did at the ball, some of the strands curling against the brim of his hat. He must have sensed her stare, for he turned his head to look at her. He smiled, which in the short time they'd known one another, made her pulse quicken. Cora tightened her hold on his arm, feeling certain that she had found her match.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sitting on the plush sofa in the sitting room of her family's townhouse, Cora listened to her mother and Lady Tarley, the woman who lived next door during the season, go on and on about her nephew, who was a marquess. She knew her mother was trying to line up potential suitors for her, but the more obvious it became, the more Cora wished she could get away from it all. She already had a suitor, who, by the way, seemed just as smitten with her as she was with him.

"Did you hear that, Cora?" her mother said, pulling her from her reverie.

Cora looked up from her lukewarm tea. "Hmm?"

Martha gestured to their guest. "Lord and Lady Tarley have invited us to their home in Berkshire. Her nephew, William, is apparently an admirer of America."

Cora forced a smile. "How wonderful."

"It is. We'll be heading to the countryside later this week."

"But, Mother, we have guests coming for dinner then."

Martha pursed her lips. As charming as she found the young Crawley heir, Martha thought it better for her daughter to expand her horizon a bit, to distance themselves from the distracting glamour and bustle of London. "We're still having the dinner, Cora, don't worry—that is, if they ever reply to the invitation. We'll be leaving for Berkshire early the following morning."

Cora curled the fingers of her left hand into her palm, letting her nails dig into the skin. Since announcing to her mother that she had invited the Crawley family for dinner without permission, Martha had been adamant about traveling. Cora knew it was her mother's way of showing disapproval, but she had been looking forward to having Robert and his family over for dinner for days now. She scarcely had the time to see him since their parting three days ago.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" she had questioned. They were standing on the corner of the street, back in Berkley Square from their walk, her maid waiting just a few yards ahead to give them a bit of privacy.

Robert took hold of her hand. He was no longer worried it seemed about such displays in public. Their courtship had begun and any journalist who happened to be in the area would find out soon enough that they were officially a couple. "I can't promise you, but there's nothing more that I'd rather do than spend an entire day in your company."

She'd felt her heart flutter then, remembering how his eyes seemed to sparkle in the summer sun. "Do you really mean that?"

He brought her hand up to his lips, which was becoming a habit of his already. She would have preferred a proper kiss, to finally feel how his lips felt against hers. But Cora couldn't complain. She found the gesture of his hand-kisses to be entirely romantic and somewhat teasing. "I wish you'd kiss me already."

Robert, still holding her hand to his lips, glanced up at her. He smiled against her fingers. "I'm waiting for the right moment."

Cora smiled back. He knew the perfect way to play her. He was witty yet polite, but altogether terribly romantic and gentle for a man of his station. "Then I shall just have to be patient, won't I?"

"You're not the only impatient one." His smile stretched to a playful grin. "I'm a proper gentleman, Cora. I fully plan to do things by the book."

"Oh, so there's a book, huh?"

He raised his chin. "As it happens, there is. And I intend to follow it to the letter."

She giggled at his flirtation, feeling her cheeks redden. "I should like to see this book once you're finished with it."

He patted her hand. "In due time, my dear. But now, I think you should be heading back."

"Come with me," she begged, but he shook his head.

Instead, Robert leaned in close, their noses just barely touching. "With every fiber of my being I want to, but it's too soon."

"Why are you the smart one?"

He chuckled and at the time, Cora thought maybe this was their moment. Just as she had been anticipating a proper kiss, he pulled away from her. "I'll write to you," he said quietly, and Cora could sense how reluctant he was to let go of her hand as he'd turned away from her.

Since then Cora often looked forward to afternoon tea. They wrote to each other daily, usually short letters outlining the activities of their day. Robert, especially, made a habit of ending his letters with a postscript, teasing her with what was to come. But his family hadn't sent a reply to her invitation yet and Cora began to wonder if they felt too dignified to dine with Americans. Or perhaps it had just gotten lost in the post.

The door of the sitting room opened but Cora didn't move from her position on the sofa.

"Excuse me, Madam," came the voice of the butler as he stepped into the room, carrying a silver salver piled with letters. "The afternoon post has arrived."

Cora spun around quickly, nearly spilling her tea.

"Very good," Martha said as the butler strode over to her side, bending down so she could pick up the post and the accompanied letter opener. "Thank you, Davis."

The butler bowed his head then left the sitting room.

"Cora," her mother called out to her, "there's one for you, darling."

Cora set down her tea on the side table before rising from the sofa to claim her letter. One glance at the handwriting on the front revealed it was from Robert. Usually she retired somewhere private when opening his letters, but she could hardly contain her excitement, for every one of them seemed to contain a surprise.

She didn't bother with using the letter opener. She ripped open the top, feeling too eager to think about being polite in front of Lady Tarley. Cora unfolded the paper, her eyes first tracing over the Crawley family crest that was centered at the top before scanning down to his familiar greeting, which managed to make her stomach flutter no matter what. She began to read:

 _My Dearest Cora,_

 _I have wonderful news. My parents have finally accepted your invitation to dinner this coming week. Their reply will probably arrive with this letter, but I do apologise for the delay. I find it only fair that I should tell you that my parents were a bit put off by a dinner invitation from an American family, though of course they didn't know until I told them who you were. Please don't feel worried or ashamed of your heritage, Cora. You know I find you irresistible the way you are, but my parents are traditionalists. In truth, I believe they're just nervous about meeting you and your mother. We've never had American friends before and I'm afraid Mama and Papa would feel like a fish out of water around the two of you. I'll let you imagine my laughter here, but I believe you have the advantage, my dear. I only hope my mother will play nice. She can be a bit brash sometimes, but after meeting your mother, I'm sure the two of them will be equally matched by each other._

 _Amongst other news, I will be visiting my cousin James today. He and his family reside in Chelsea during the season, and I must admit I'm not looking forward to it. He's arrogant and rude like his mother, but nevertheless he's family. I believe our visit is on account of his recent engagement, though I pity the young girl who accepted his proposal. I just want to make it clear that you have my word, Cora, that I will never hurt or betray you for as long as we're together. Though I can't say the same for my cousin. I'm nothing like him, which I'm sure you can probably imagine by now, but I believe I can make you happy, despite some of my family's harshness._

 _I realise I'm rambling, but the truth is . . . I miss you, darling. My words feel like a poor substitute to your physical presence, but I find comfort in expressing myself this way. I'm sure you know by now how reserved we Englishmen can be, but your shy smile and captivating eyes often make me lose my focus at times that my emotions become uncontrollable. I hope you know how much I adore you, Cora Levinson, and that I'm very much looking forward to dinner with you on the 20th. Until then, I'll be thinking of you, as I do every day, waiting until we can see each other again._

 _Always yours,_

 _Robert_

 _P.S. I would very much like to see you in that crème dress again, the one you wore at the ball where we met. I remember it had been damaged, but I thought I had never seen anyone as beautiful as you were that night. To persuade you, I'll even come in white tie, as much as I hate those starched collars and stiff shirtfronts. No matter what you decide, you'll never disappoint me._

Cora let out a contented sigh, holding the letter to her chest as if it were one of her toy dolls. They were coming. In four days she and Robert will formally announce their courtship to their respective families. She only wished her father and her brother could be present for such an event. The added support she knew she'd get from her father would definitely give her an edge. But without him, Cora feared her mother would, once again, get her way.

"It looks like we'll be having a dinner party after all," Martha said, looking over at Cora.

Cora turned around. "I knew we would, Mother. It was only a matter of time." She didn't dare tell her mother that she was writing to Robert. The bulk of her life was already dictated by others. What harm could come of keeping something private for herself for once?

"You seem to know them better than I do, so why don't you discuss the evening's dinner menu with the cook?" her mother suggested. "It'll give you a bit of experience for when you're running your own house."

Cora folded Robert's letter in half. "Really, Mother? You'd let me do that?"

Martha inclined her head. "We're foreigners here, Cora. You might be a marchioness someday—or even a duchess. We Americans have to show that we can run an English household just as well as they can."

"Thank you, Mother." Striding over to Martha, Cora leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek. "I'll be upstairs in my room. I have a letter to write." She turned to face their guest, smiling politely. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Tarley. And I look forward to seeing your estate and your nephew when we come to visit."

"Thank you, dear," the older woman said, her smile accentuating the wrinkles around her nose and mouth. "You're just as enchanting as your mother describes you to be. I'm sure William will enjoy your company tremendously."

Again, Cora forced another smile. Her mother and Lady Tarley were evidently conspiring together it seemed. She turned away from the two women and left the sitting room, being careful not to crumple Robert's letter. She was not going to let her mother win without a fight.

. . .

Across London, Robert took his time nursing the glass of brandy sitting in front of him. After having dinner with his father's aunt and uncle, he and James had ventured out into the city. Robert was reluctant to go at first, but decided that he'd probably be useful should the possibility arise that he be needed to bail out his cousin. He ended up abandoning James at one of the gentleman's clubs his cousin often frequented. Having no interest in such a place, Robert eventually found himself in a pub on Sloane Street.

He managed to avoid getting caught up in conversation with the gentleman sitting next to him. The bartender, probably realizing how well off he was, made sure Robert's glass was never empty. He drank at a slow pace, though he could feel the alcohol starting to get to him, the hazy, clouding of his thoughts was making it difficult for him to concentrate. No matter if he was drunk or not, Robert could still recite, word for word, Cora's last letter. Since receiving it earlier that morning, he'd read it nearly a dozen times he committed it to memory. If he closed his eyes he could imagine her voice in his head, whispering to him in that luscious accent of hers:

 _Darling Robert,_

 _I can't express to you how much I enjoyed our walk the other day, despite our untimely encounter with that woman (though I confess I cannot remember her name. I believe it started with an 'M', or perhaps an 'E'?). But please don't worry over my reaction. I was merely shocked, is all. I'm no longer angry, how could I be? Despite our lack of time with one another, I feel I know you pretty well, Robert Crawley, although I'm sure there's plenty I don't yet know about you. In due time, I suspect I'll learn. You're a complete gentleman, and I know your intentions of me are honorable, but oh, how I wish we could spend an evening alone together. I know it's only been a few days, but I miss having you beside me, feeling your hand entwined with mine, listening to your soothing voice. I will say that my cheeks are burning as I write this, but only you seem to make me feel that way._

 _I'll try and keep this short, but I do worry that your family has yet to send a reply to my dinner invitation. I realize that it's up to your parents, but I'd so enjoy it if they could come. You mean a great deal to me already that not even the entirety of the British Army could keep me_ _away from you. Please visit me, no matter if your parents decide not to come to dinner, I'd just like to see you. I've done nothing since our walk together but follow my mother's orders. She wants me to be engaged by the end of the season, but she doesn't understand that I don't want to be fussed over and pampered like one of those delicate porcelain dolls. How I wish I could just get away from it all, perhaps down south to those beautiful beaches you talked about? I now realize that coming to England was never meant to be a holiday like I envisioned, but a mere display, a contest of sorts to see who would be the first to marry._

 _I don't believe I've mentioned it to you, but my family is rather wealthy, probably not as well off as yours considering your noble heritage. I'll be blunt about it: I don't want to be part of a business transaction, Robert. That's not how I want the rest of my life to be revolved around. It's taken great liberty for me to be this honest with you about this, but I've been worrying that if I kept it secret from you, everything we've built so far would be ruined. I couldn't bear that. So no matter if your family accepts or not, don't stay away. You're always welcome to visit. My mother finds you charming, which I can hardly blame her. But above all, do not stop writing to me. Every day I enjoy reading your letters. You make me smile and laugh with your wit and humor but you make my heart soar with your affectionate words. I do look forward to seeing you soon, darling (may I call you that now?), for you manage to brighten even my most dreariest of moods._

 _Truly yours,_

 _Cora_

 _P.S. Since we've met, I've never felt happier._

Robert continued to stare down at the amber liquid in his glass, smiling to himself as he thought of her. He made her happy, as he knew he would. But he was genuinely surprised by her omission of her family's wealth. Until now, he only assumed that she had a comfortable life to afford traveling all the way to England. But he assured himself that their relationship was anything but business; it was so much more than that.

He swallowed back what was left in his glass, determined to prove to her that money didn't matter. He had to stop the bartender from refilling his glass, asking for a piece of paper instead. Unscrewing the cap of his pen, Robert scribbled out a short note to Cora then dropped a few coins on the bar for his drink, leaving a little extra for the bartender. Placing his hat back on his head, Robert left the pub with haste, nearly tripping over the leg of the barstool in his alcohol-induced excitement, not giving his lewd cousin another thought.

By the time Robert made it to the Levinson's townhouse in Berkley Square, he was sweating profusely. Underneath his brown suit, his thin shirt was drenched under the arms and across the expanse of his back. He reached up and loosened the knot of his red tie, stumbling as he made his way up the few steps to the front door. He rang the bell repeatedly until the door opened, revealing an irritated butler.

"Yes, may I help you?" the butler ground out, his tone neither pleased nor angry.

Robert leaned against the jamb of the door, feeling the effects of the alcohol he consumed. "I need you to give this to Cor—no, Miss Levinson." He smiled dumbly as he dug around in his pocket for the note. He handed over the wrinkled bit of paper, some of the ink slightly smudged from his sweaty fingers. "It's important. Shh." He held a finger to his lips and laughed.

In the dull haze of the gas lights lining the street, the butler narrowed his gaze at Robert, letting out a reluctant grunt as he finally took the note. "Would you care to come in, sir? You don't look well at all."

Robert shook his head, leaning over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "No, thaank you," he slurred out, standing up straight and hiccuping.

"As you wish. I'll deliver your note to Miss Levinson."

Robert gave the butler an unwanted pat on the shoulder. "Good." Once the door closed, he spun around, losing his balance. He was able to catch himself with his hand and continued down the last of the steps. He walked around to stand in front of the short iron grate that was erected in front of the house. He leaned over to rest his forehead against the cool metal, staring down at his feet, feeling tired and somewhat dizzy.

Behind him, the _clip-clop_ of horses hooves clattered against the cobble-stoned street. A young child's squealing laughter made him turn and he smiled at the sight of a little girl squirming in the arms of who he assumed was the mother.

"Robert?"

He turned back around at the sound of her voice, his smile stretching into a ridiculous grin. Standing on the steps to the house in nothing but a dark evening gown, Robert thought she never looked more beautiful to him.

Since he refused to move, Cora lifted the ends of her dress and began down the steps, coming to a stop in front of him. "What's the meaning of this, Robert? Why would you summon me at this time of day? Dinner will be served soon."

Robert took hold of her hands. "Come with me," he breathed out, trying very hard to focus on the clarity of his words.

"What?" As he leaned closer, she could smell the alcohol on him. "Are you—Robert, are you drunk?"

He shook his head wildly, his hat tipping askew on one side. "No . . . not really. I mean I had a little something earlier, but I needed to see you."

"Why?"

"Becauuuse!" He grinned. "You make me happy, so very happy!"

Cora narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if there was truth in his drunken ramblings. "I-I don't know what to say."

"Then say you'll come with me?"

"Where?"

Robert breathed out heavily. "I don't know—anywhere. Just . . . be with me?"

Cora felt her heart pounding in her chest. Despite his obvious inebriated appearance, she couldn't resist him. She let go of his hands and stepped forward to wrap her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Of course I want to be with you," she said, rubbing her nose against his damp skin, inhaling the mixture of brandy and cologne. "You make me happy as well, Robert Crawley."

He pulled away from her, seeing in her eyes that she meant it. Days ago he had promised her that he would wait for the right moment, but now Robert felt that this was it. The sun was close to setting, providing an elegant backdrop of shaded light that seemed to make her glow, but they were standing right outside her family's home. Anyone could see them in what little light remained.

He took her hand. "Come on," he said, guiding her down the footpath that ran alongside the street.

Cora let out a quiet shriek of laughter as she struggled to keep up with him. How, she wondered, could he manage to run with such grace whilst still semi-intoxicated was a mystery to her. "Robert, slow down."

He kept going until he found a break in the line of townhouses. He veered them into a narrow passageway, which wasn't the most romantic place to take a woman, but at least there they would be shadowed and out of eyesight by anyone who was passing by.

They were both breathing heavily by now and Robert could see that Cora looked confused by where they were. "I know it's not ideal," he said, "but we'll have privacy this way."

"Robert, what do you—"

Not letting her finish, Robert reached around her and laced his fingers together at the small of her back. "I told you I would wait for the perfect moment."

He leaned forward, and Cora must have understood his intentions, for they met each other halfway in a delicate kiss. His pulse quickened at first contact, delighted by how well they fit together. But he felt her start to pull away and Robert would have preferred that it lasted a few seconds longer, but he didn't want to frighten her with such an intensity.

"If you knew how many times I'd imagined this scene," Robert said, leaning over to let his forehead rest against hers.

Cora chuckled, breathing deeply over the lump that had formed in her throat, trying desperately not to cry. "Tell me you won't forget this once you're sober?"

"I won't forget."

"You're a terrible liar."

Robert laughed, smiling. "How would you know?"

"I just do." She slid her hands up the front of his suit until they settled at the back of his neck. "Could you . . ." Her eyes drifted away from his. "Could you show me again how you imagined this scene?" she asked shyly, gazing back at him.

Robert's smile widened. "I thought you'd never ask."

Again, they met each other halfway, being gentle but much more confidant in their exploration of one another. Robert pulled her even closer, taking the initiative to deepen their kiss, while Cora slid her fingers into his hair, almost tipping over his hat completely.

"Sorry," she whispered once they pulled apart.

"I don't mind," he said, reaching up with one hand to straighten his hat.

"How was your visit with your cousin?" Cora asked, remembering what he had said in his letter.

"It was ghastly—ooh," he breathed out, letting go of her to clutch his stomach.

"What is it?"

Robert leaned over, keeping his balance with one hand splayed against the wall of one of the houses they were standing next to. "I don't feel well." He knew it was the alcohol that was still in his system, and combined with the sudden exertion of running, was not a pleasant feeling.

Cora didn't know what to do. In the semi-darkness his face looked rather pale, as if he were going to be sick. "Can you make it back to my family's house?"

It took him a moment to answer her. "I think so. But could we go slowly this time?"

She chuckled and took hold of his arm, guiding him back to the house. They had to stop along the way though so Robert could empty his stomach in one of the small gardens that lined the outside of some of the townhouses.

Once home, it took Cora a tremendous amount of persuasion to get her mother to agree to let Robert stay for the night so he could sleep off the effects of the alcohol he consumed.

"Why was he in such a state, Cora?" her mother asked as they conversed in the drawing room before dinner. "You were nearly late for dinner."

"I apologize, Mother, but he just appeared without notice. I couldn't turn him away like that."

"Now I'm worried about this dinner party you've arranged with him and his family."

"Robert is a respectable man. He had a terrible visit with his cousin today. You know how that can be sometimes."

Martha narrowed her gaze at her daughter. "So it's _Robert_ now, is it? I see."

Cora crossed her arms, annoyed by her mother's snide tone. "He's my—" She stopped herself before she could give away their secret. "He's my friend, Mother, and I . . . I care for him a great deal."

Martha sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing with her daughter over an uninvited guest. "I'm sure you do, darling, but I'm trying to help you build your future—"

Cora threw her hands up in the air. "Can't you see I don't want your help? I agreed to come with you here because you said it would be a trip of a lifetime—and it has—but I don't need you picking out my future husband for me."

"Don't you want a good life for yourself, Cora?"

Cora could feel tears threatening to fall. She couldn't remember ever having such a heated disagreement with her mother. "Of course I do, but not this way. I'm old enough to make my own decisions."

Martha stepped forward and embraced her daughter. "Your father and I have only wanted what's best for you. No decent and deserving man would accept the daughter of new money, that's why I brought you here, Cora. I thought that if you could marry into the English aristocracy you'd have a much better life here than back home."

Cora turned her head away from her mother. "I just miss Papa so much, Mother."

"I know, darling. So do I." After a minute's silence, Martha asked, "This Robert, do you love him?"

Cora stepped away from her mother, wiping her eyes with the tip of her finger. "I don't know, but I think so. We only just met, but he makes me happy, Mother. I don't want to give him up yet. He's the heir to an earldom—that I know."

Martha let out another deep sigh. Why did her daughter have to be so unconventional? she wondered. "Alright, darling, if he makes you happy then I won't object."

"Thank you."

"I'll have to write to your father and have him come over so he can meet him properly."

"Please do," Cora said, her mood brightening considerably. "I'd love to see him—Harold too."

"I doubt your brother would enjoy voyaging on a ship to a country notorious for its gloomy weather."

"I know you can persuade him."

Martha caught her daughter's wayward glance towards the door, probably thinking about the young man currently residing upstairs in one of the guest rooms. She knew the look of a girl in love, and though her daughter's relationship with Robert was quite sudden, it gave her a sense of peace that Cora would be all right, as long as his parents were just as accepting.

"May I go and check on him?" Cora asked.

"Yes, just be sure to be back down in time for dinner."

"Thank you, Mother." Cora leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek.

"I'll have one of the footmen bring him a tray once we've finished."

Cora nodded and left the drawing room.

Upstairs, Robert dozed on and off since the two footmen helped him up the stairs. The room was still fairly warm, even with the window cracked open, so he lay atop the wrinkled bedsheets in only his shirt and trousers. His suit was neatly draped over a chair along with his socks and his shoes left on the floor beside them.

The nausea he felt nearly an hour ago had finally passed, leaving him feeling tired but unable to stay asleep long enough to feel rested. His stomach growled and he cursed himself for not asking Cora sooner if she could have something brought up for him. He heard the door of the room creak open and he turned his head, squinting into the darkness to see who it was.

"Robert?" he heard Cora say softly, watching as her thin figure made her way towards him. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," he replied.

Cora approached the bed and he extended his hand to her. She placed her hand in his and he tugged her closer, realizing that he wanted her to sit next to him.

After arranging herself beside him on the bed, Cora let her hand rest on the exposed skin of his left forearm. She gazed at him for a moment as her hand drifted down to his, entwining their fingers together.

Robert twisted over onto his side, keeping their hands laced together. "I'm sorry," he whispered, inching closer so their noses touched.

"It's all right, Robert," she said, thinking he must feel embarrassed at being sick in front of her. "Do you feel better?"

"Sort of." He closed his eyes at the feel of her fingers running through the hair that had fallen out of place across his forehead.

"I can't stay very long. I'm due downstairs for dinner soon. Mother said she'd have a footman bring you something once we're finished eating."

"Thank you."

Cora continued caressing his face and hair, noticing he took comfort from her touch. "Please promise me you won't drink like this regularly? It's not healthy for you."

Robert brought their joined hands up to his lips. "I promise, darling."

"Good." She moved to get up but he wouldn't let her.

"Please stay?" he begged.

Cora touched his cheek, letting her thumb skim over the rough stubble growing out along his jaw. "I can't. But I'll come back after you've eaten. Just ring for someone to send for me."

"Do you know how perfect you are, Cora?"

She shook her head. "I don't believe anyone is truly perfect, Robert."

"I know. But what I meant was that you're perfect for me—in every way—beauty, brains, a heart, a conscience. I'm truly lucky."

"Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"I do mean it."

Cora smiled and leaned over to kiss him. "Go back to sleep."

"I'd prefer it if you were next to me, but as you wish, I'll try and sleep."

She untangled herself from his embrace and pressed her lips to his forehead before getting up and leaving him to rest.

Robert sighed as he turned over onto his back, staring up at the canopy above the bed. He dreaded his return home, anticipating a strict berating from his parents for going off on his own and not returning. He felt embarrassed by his drunken behavior, but she'd took it in her stride to make sure he would be all right. It was becoming more difficult to part from her in what little time they had together. Was that what they called love? he wondered, thinking back to their kiss in the alleyway.

Robert wasn't sure, but he promised himself that once they were officially together, he would take Cora down south to Dorset. She wanted time away to be herself and he vowed to give it to her. He wouldn't let his friends or family change her. She was everything he wanted just the way she was.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you to those of you who have been leaving reviews, I greatly appreciate them. Once again I have borrowed some lines from the show itself (I'm sure you guys will recognize them) and credit for those goes to Julian Fellowes, whose masterful writing I probably can't match but wish I could. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this one. And as always, reviews/comments/messages are always welcome.**

Chapter Four

Robert paused on the front steps of Grantham House, not wanting to face the anger he knew would be coming from his parents. He hadn't meant to drink so much the previous day, but he couldn't stand James's presence any longer. One more lewd comment about a woman who had passed them by on the street and Robert was ready to land a fist to his cousin's jaw. Despite how awful he felt in the aftermath of his trip to the pub, it was worth it, he thought, to spend the night under the same roof as Cora.

It had been the middle of the night and Robert couldn't seem to get to sleep. The heavy curtains were closed, but a sliver of moonlight mixed with the orange haze of a gas lamp filtered through a slight gap, creating a slim, triangular shadow that extended across the floor to the side of the bed. He traced its edges with his gaze, willing himself to fall asleep.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply until he felt the bedsheets rustle beside him. Startled, he opened his eyes, seeing Cora lying next to him in her nightgown, her shoulders bare and inviting. "What are you doing?" he whispered, as if he was worried that someone might hear them.

"It's late, go back to sleep," she said, pulling the thin sheet up to her chin.

"I can't seem to get to sleep."

Cora shifted closer to him, searching for his hand. "Now why's that?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, curling his fingers around hers. He moved onto his side so they were face to face. "I wasn't expecting you back in my room."

" _Your_ room?" Cora questioned, her tone light and playful.

"I am a guest."

She smiled, bringing their joined hands to her chest. "You're _my_ guest."

Silence settled between them as Robert gazed back at her, studying the curve of her cheek and the shadowed lines of her lips. Despite the darkness, she looked enticing beside him in the bed, the tops of their heads nearly touching. Was it wrong to want her to stay? he wondered, knowing she'd have to return to her own room before her maid came to wake her for breakfast. But he wanted one last chance to be close to her. Their relationship was still so new and uncertain that time together was short and minimal. Every second had to last.

"May I hold you?" Robert asked, his voice soft and tentative.

"Yes," she whispered, letting him pull her with him as he moved onto his back, her head tucked in the crook of his neck and her hand flat upon his chest.

With his free hand, Robert drew circles across her wrist, amazed by the softness underneath the rough pad of his fingertip. "Cora?"

"Hmm," she hummed, brushing her thumb through the light hairs peeking out through the top of his shirt where he'd left the buttons undone.

"I want to apologize for intruding on you and your mother. I know she wasn't pleased to have me here tonight."

Cora pulled her head back so she could look at him. "Don't apologize, Robert. You're not intruding on us."

"I just . . ."

"What is it?"

He knew what he felt deep inside, but the words just wouldn't come. They sat in the back of his throat and he could feel their burn like a glass of whiskey. Once more he hesitated before uttering into the silence between them, "You mean so much to me."

"Oh, darling . . ."

Robert closed his eyes as he felt her lips press a lingering kiss to his cheek. Then she shifted against him and he tightened his hold on her. The gentle motions of her hand smoothing across his chest and down his stomach created the solution he'd been craving.

He'd fallen asleep with Cora in his arms, only to be left alone the following morning. Before going down for breakfast he'd caught her in the hallway coming out of her room, fully dressed in a light gown of lavender and white lace, one arm slipping around her slender waist. Without a word, he leaned over and kissed her, letting it drag on for as long as she allowed.

Still standing on the front steps of his family's London house, Robert let the memory of their stolen evening together fade away to the back of his mind, where it would be waiting the next time he thought of her. Clearing his throat, he rang the bell.

"Good morning, sir," the butler greeted him, opening the door wide for Robert to enter.

"Good morning, Barrington," Robert replied, taking off his hat and handing it to the older man.

"Lord Grantham and Lady Rosamund are still in the dining room, sir. Shall I have Charles put out another place setting?"

"No, thank you, Barrington. I've already eaten. I think I'll have a bath and change."

"Very well, sir. I'll tell Charles you've arrived."

"Thank you."

After dismissing Charles, his valet, Robert left his bedroom and ambled back downstairs to join the rest of his family in the sitting room. His young Labrador retriever happily greeted him upon entering the room, nuzzling its wet nose into his hand.

"I assume you have a plausible reason for your absence?" his mother said, giving him a narrowed and pointed look from her seated position in one of the high-backed armchairs.

Robert straightened his back, feeling like he was five years old again, waiting to be admonished for getting into trouble.

"Well?" Violet implored. "You know how I hate being kept waiting, Robert."

"I was ill," he said, pulling his hand away from his dog's curious nose and clasping them behind his back. Across the room, his father and sister were watching their exchange with interest.

"You don't look ill to me," Violet replied, pursing her lips. She turned away as her son's treasured companion trotted over to lie down by her feet.

Robert rolled his eyes. "I'm feeling better today, thank you, Mama."

"I'm sure you are. And I'm sure the girl you spent your night with will turn up here looking for you."

Robert twisted his fingers together, clenching his jaw. "I did no such thing."

"Don't lie to me, Robert," Violet shot back. "We received a letter from the girl's mother this morning, informing us that you were well taken care of."

"Mama, I—"

Violet held her hand up, stopping him. "I don't need details."

"Nothing indecent occurred, Mama, if that's what you're getting at?"

Violet narrowed her eyes at her son. "And this is the family we're supposed to be dining with on Thursday?"

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if you could keep the pithy comments to a minimum."

Violet angled her head down, her piercing gaze not leaving her son. Patrick stood up from his chair next to the sofa. "Robert," he warned, "you're straying perilously close to the edge, I'm afraid."

"Let's just hope I don't jump, then." With a low whistle, Robert signaled his Labrador back by his side then left the sitting room.

With swift steps, Robert entered his room on the second floor, slamming the door shut behind him. He sat down at his desk, which was situated next to the window that overlooked the street below. For a moment he watched as horse-drawn carriages swept back and forth while men and women of various ages scattered in all directions, seamlessly going about their day.

Looking away from the window, he uncapped his fountain pen and began a letter to Cora, thanking her and her mother for letting him stay the night. She was the only person he felt he could talk to. His valet, Charles, who also played the role of footman from time to time when his family hosted large dinner parties and events, only liked to converse whenever Robert initiated it. For a man of only twenty-eight, Charles was so stoic that Robert felt he'd make an excellent butler one day, should the opportunity present itself.

He rubbed a hand over his face, still feeling the remnants of the headache he'd thought had long been gone by now. But the heated words he exchanged with his mother in the sitting room left his head pounding. He could just imagine dinner with the Levinsons to be a disaster.

In his frustration he jabbed the tip of his pen down on the paper, the excess ink creating a large black dot. Nevertheless he began to write, not caring if his words sounded jumbled or if his handwriting looked atrocious. He just needed to get his thoughts on paper, only to be interrupted a few minutes later by a knock on his bedroom door. "Yes?" he called out, not turning around in his chair.

His father stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and clearing his throat. "Has something been troubling you?" Patrick asked, standing beside his son's bed.

Robert continued writing. "No."

"Don't lie to me, Robert. Since that ball you've been distant from the rest of us. Then out of nowhere we receive a dinner invitation from these Americans—who think they can flaunt their wealth and bizarre customs without a care in the world."

Robert finally stopped writing, disliking his father's derogatory tone. He straightened his back, still not turning to face his father. "They are a respectable family."

"I see. And I'm sure they'll be throwing their daughter at you now that they've discovered you're still a bachelor."

"Dammit, Papa!" Robert shouted, throwing down his pen and standing up. "I was being a gentleman!"

Patrick narrowed his eyes. "Don't raise your voice at me! I am your father and you will show me some respect! Do I make myself clear?"

Through clenched teeth, Robert ground out a "Yes" as the two men stood facing each other.

Patrick glanced briefly at his son's desk, seeing multiple sheets of paper scattered about. "Go." He gestured with a nod of his head. "Take Angus for a walk—God knows he needs it."

Once Robert finally complied, Patrick picked up the papers on his son's desk, scanning over them. "Hmm. I see," he mumbled to himself as he folded the letter in half and tucked it in the inside pocket of his suit.

. . .

For the fifth time, Cora rearranged the place settings for dinner with the Crawleys, uncertain whether to place Robert's mother next to or across from her. Davis, the butler, let out another sigh from beside her, clearly irritated by the many changes.

"There," Cora said, handing the butler her finished place settings, "now it's perfect."

"Very well, miss."

Cora surveyed the drawing room, anticipating the arrival of Robert's family any minute now. Across the room one of the footmen was busy arranging drinks and glasses on a table. Her mother was seated on the sofa, watching the flames lick the top of the fireplace.

"I shouldn't be this nervous," Cora said, moving to sit next to her mother. "But I can't keep my hands from shaking."

Martha reached over and took hold of her daughter's hands, clasping them between her own. "It's perfectly normal, darling. When I met your father's parents I was a bundle of nerves. But the moment I caught your father's eye across the dinner table, I could feel the tension inside me unwind. And from what I've heard you say about Robert, I suspect you'll feel the same."

"Thank you, Mother . . . for sharing that with me. I've missed hearing your stories about Papa."

"I wrote to him yesterday—practically begging him to visit."

"What did he say?"

"I haven't received his reply yet, but, Cora, may I ask you something?"

Cora furrowed her brow. "Of course, Mother, anything."

"This dinner isn't just out of courtesy, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Cora. Has he . . . asked you?"

"Asked me?"

"To marry him. Has he proposed to you and now you've decided to announce the engagement?"

Cora shook her head. "No, he didn't propose. But he asked if he could court me. Oh, Mother, please don't say anything. It was meant to be a secret until dinner."

"But you've accepted?"

Cora smiled, thinking how nervous she was when Robert had stood up in front of her in the park to ask her. "I have."

Martha shifted closer to her daughter. "Are you sure, darling? I mean, are you absolutely sure you've made the right decision?"

Cora didn't need to think twice. "Yes, I'm sure. I . . . he makes me happy, Mother."

"But you hardly know each other—"

Cora pulled her hands away from her mother's and stood up. "I don't care. I've known him long enough that I want to spend my life with him. He's good to me. And if Daddy were here he'd understand—he'd be happy for me, not trying to convince me otherwise like you."

Martha stood as well. "I want a decent man for you, Cora, can't you understand that?"

"Of course I do, and Robert is decent. He's kind and respectable—"

"He showed up on our doorstep drunk. What sort of decency is that?"

Behind them, the footman had fumbled with a glass, causing Martha and Cora to turn at the noise. "My apologies, ma'am," he said, bowing his head.

"Oh, it's all right. There are already plenty of frayed nerves in this house as it is tonight."

The footman smiled sheepishly as he scurried past the two women, back to the servants' hall.

"Don't ruin this for me, Mother, please?"

Martha remained quiet for a moment. "I won't ruin it, Cora, but I'm accepting it for what it is. And for now, that's enough."

"Excuse me, madam," Davis said, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room, "Lord and Lady Grantham have arrived."

"Thank you, Davis, we'll be right out. We'll come back to this later," Martha said, looking over at her daughter.

Cora left the drawing room first, eager to see Robert dressed in his white tie and tails again.

As the two Levinson women approached their guests in the foyer, Robert immediately stepped forward to kiss Cora's cheek. "You look very beautiful tonight," he whispered next to her ear.

Cora looked away from him, feeling herself blush at the display he put on in front of their parents. "You look rather dashing yourself," she whispered back, glancing down at his impeccable white shirt and tailored jacket before he moved on to kiss her mother's hand in greeting.

"Miss Levinson, Mrs. Levinson," Robert began as he stepped back to introduce his parents. "These are my parents, Patrick and Violet Crawley—and my sister, Rosamund."

Rosamund smiled at Cora as she moved forward to kiss her cheek. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Cora," she said. "My dear brother won't tell me anything, so I'm afraid you're going to have to fill in the details for him."

Cora chuckled, glancing back at Robert out of the corner of her eye. "After dinner, certainly."

"You're the first Americans to invite us to dinner," Patrick commented as he bent down to kiss the back of Martha's hand, much to Violet's distaste, who pursed her lips in response. "And I must say I'm rather intrigued for what you have in store for us." He smiled, causing Martha to laugh.

"If it isn't up to your liking, Lord Grantham, you can blame my daughter," Martha replied, still chuckling as she gestured towards Cora. "She planned the entire thing herself, from the main course down to the place settings."

Patrick looked over at Cora, noticing how her gaze never seemed to leave his son. "Please, call me Patrick. It's just us, I believe. We don't need formalities for such an intimate dinner."

"And what shall we call each other?" Martha asked Violet, who'd been rather too quiet amid the introductions.

"Why don't we start with Mrs. Levinson and Lady Grantham?" Violet replied in as serious a tone as she could muster, requiring no need for an answer.

"I see," Martha said, a bit taken back. "Well, Lady Grantham, I've heard from Robert that you reside in Yorkshire?"

"Yes, that's correct." Violet shot her son a warning look and he weakly shrugged his shoulders in response, grinning in a way that made her want to thump him upside the head for releasing such personal details.

Being the hostess, Cora extended an arm towards the dining room. "Shall we go through?" She waited for her mother and their guests before walking in beside Robert, who she decided to place across from her at the table, not trusting him or herself to refrain from touching one another under the table if they were seated next to each other. Cora was just glad that Robert's sister was pleasant and inviting thus far, having placed her in the chair to her left. There were bound to be a number of topics they could discuss.

Through the starters, amicable chitchat revolved around the dinner table, though Martha and Violet still seemed to be at an impasse when it came to polite conversation. Once the main course was served, Robert and Cora met each other's gaze from across the table. He mouthed to her "Now?" in which she shook her head, trying to silently communicate that he wait until everyone was finished. He winked and Cora couldn't help the blush that crept out across her cheeks.

"Is everything all right?" Rosamund asked, leaning over towards Cora.

"Yes. It just feels a little warm in here, that's all." Cora gave Robert a serious look and he brought his glass of wine up to his lips to conceal his smile.

"I don't think so," Rosamund said, grinning to herself as she noticed Cora's blush deepen in color.

"Tell me, Martha," Patrick began, "is it just you and your daughter living in England?"

"Yes, I wondered if there was a Mr. Levinson," Violet also chipped in.

"Yes, it's just the two of us," Martha replied. "My husband and son reside in New York, well Newport during the summer, but they manage the business accounts from the city."

"What sort of business does your husband deal in?" Patrick asked, wiping the corner of his mouth with his cloth napkin.

"He deals in dry goods."

Patrick smiled. "How interesting. It's a pity he couldn't be with us. I'd like to hear more."

Martha pointed her fork at him. "Meet me in the drawing room after dinner."

Violet chuckled. "Is that what they call _discussion_ in New York?"

Robert and Cora exchanged glances across the table again. Cora nodded slightly and Robert tapped the side of his glass with his knife. Standing up as straight as he could, he addressed the table, "I'd just like to say something. Cora and her mother have graciously invited my family into their home and I just wanted to express my gratitude for their generous hospitality. But more importantly, I have a rather big announcement to make." He paused to clear his throat, feeling nervous by the many pairs of eyes trained in his direction. "Cora and I wanted to gather you all here tonight so we could announce our courtship." The dining room remained eerily quiet, not even the footmen moved a muscle.

"We met at the Javerton's ball," Robert continued, locking his gaze with Cora from across the table. "And I became smitten with the loveliest girl I had ever seen. It's been a whirlwind, I realize, but I'm positively sure that Miss Levinson is my second half—my better half." He smiled at her, noticing the furtive swipe of a finger underneath her right eye.

At their son's news, Patrick and Violet exchanged surprised glances, while Rosamund turned to Cora to place a hand on her forearm in congratulations.

"Well, what an announcement," Martha chimed in, breaking the awkward silence. "I think a round of congratulations is in order."

"Yes, congratulations, brother," Rosamund said, lifting her wineglass in Robert's direction.

Patrick let out a deep breath. "Well, I say. I certainly wasn't expecting such news."

He weakly smiled, and Violet could sense that her husband was lying, though she couldn't fathom why.

To lighten the mood, Martha spoke of her and Cora's upcoming trip to the countryside. "We'll be visiting Lord and Lady Tarley in Berkshire this weekend. I always wondered if you Lords and Ladies all knew each other."

"What-what is a weekend?" Violet asked, her face serious as she looked at Martha.

Martha glanced over at her daughter, who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh. "Oh, I always forget that the working week doesn't apply to you high society folk."

"To our _folk_ ," Violet jabbed back, "managing an estate is a lifetime career. There are no breaks or _weekends_ , as you put it."

"Violet!" Patrick hissed under his breath.

"Well are you just going to sit there and let this woman insult us? Because I won't."

"Mama," Robert interjected, "I'm sure Mrs. Levinson didn't mean—"

"Oh, I know exactly what she meant," Violet said, angling her head at Martha.

Cora stared down at her plate, wishing she could just disappear. The main course still needed to be finished and cleared, and then there was the cheese and dessert courses to get through as well. If only her mother could keep her opinions to herself. She glanced up and for the third time, her gaze met Robert's. He smiled and like her mother said, she could feel some of the tension begin to leave her body. If their families were able to settle their differences, Cora felt that she could get used to sitting across the dining table from Robert every evening, sharing silent moments together with just their eyes.

Even though the tension started to unfurl inside Cora, it only seemed to grow as the next three courses were served. Violet refused to speak unless spoken to directly, while Patrick and Martha conversed without difficulty.

When the final dessert course was finished, both the women and men retired to the drawing room for after-dinner drinks. Robert was eager to get Cora alone, but his sister kept monopolizing her time. He sipped his drink leisurely, watching them from his position next to the fireplace. His mother kept to herself, still rattled from dinner it seemed, drinking liberally from her glass of brandy, while his father was too engrossed with Cora's mother, hanging on to her every word, to notice his wife's unhappy mood.

Robert swallowed what was left in his glass, deciding he couldn't wait any longer, and strode over to Cora's side.

"Robert, why didn't you tell me about Cora sooner?" Rosamund asked. "She's absolutely lovely."

"I suppose I just wanted to keep her to myself for a little while," Robert replied, placing a hand on Cora's lower back. She looked up at him and he smiled. "For once, you're right, Rosamund, she is lovely."

The couple continued to stare at each other and Rosamund figured it was time to give them some privacy. "If you're thinking of sneaking off now's your chance," she said, gesturing to Martha and Patrick, who were still caught in a heavy discussion over dry goods, and Violet, who looked about ready to nod off at any moment.

Robert turned his anxious gaze back to Cora.

"I know somewhere," she said, leaning up on her toes to whisper in his ear.

"Lead the way," he whispered back, grinning as he followed her out of the drawing room.

Once they were up the stairs and out of sight, Cora took hold of Robert's hand, guiding him down the hallway.

"You're not taking me to your room?" Robert asked, having difficulty hiding his smirk.

"Robert!" Cora gasped. "That would be most unladylike."

"What? You looked so ravishing sitting across from me in that dress." He looked down at her shimmering red gown, admiring her backside as she continued to pull him along.

They entered a small room at the end of the hallway. It was dark and Cora had to feel around for the gas lamp. "This is one of my favorite rooms," she said, once the space was bathed in a soft light. "I usually come here to read and write."

Robert gazed about the room, thinking it looked rather cozy: a cushioned window seat that had a view of the street below, a settee set against the far wall where shelves of books lined the room, and a few armchairs arranged in a half circle with a table situated in between.

With one hand, Robert closed the door behind him while the other pulled Cora against him. "I've waited all night to kiss you properly," he said, lacing both of his hands together at the small of her back.

Cora smiled up at him, resting her hands on his upper arms. "What's stopping you?"

"You, my darling."

"Me?"

"I worry if I'm pushing you into this too fast."

Cora furrowed her brow. "This?"

Robert rolled his eyes. " _Us_. I'm serious, Cora. If you don't want this or if you think we're going too fast I want you to tell me."

"Of course I want this," Cora said, laying a hand against his cheek. "I agreed to let you pursue me, did I not?"

He nodded. "I just . . . I want to be sure. Because I don't know what I'd do if you left me and it was my fault."

"Robert . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Just kiss me already."

Smiling, Robert leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, delighting in the soft sigh that escaped her mouth.

"Have I told you how handsome you are in your tails?" Cora said, once they pulled apart, fingering the silk of his white tie.

Robert continued to smile. "I believe you said I looked dashing."

For a moment, Cora's eyes drifted away from his. "Did you really mean what you said in front of everyone at dinner?"

"Of course I did."

"Am I really your better half, Robert?"

He lifted her chin with his finger, bringing her gaze back up to him. "No matter if we fight or disagree, you'll always be my better half, Cora. I . . ." He swallowed hard, finding it difficult to voice the words he knew he wanted to say to her. "I can't bear to be without you."

Her eyes widened, and though it wasn't the three words she was hoping for, Cora knew how he felt about her. She stepped closer to embrace him again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, their heads pressed together. "I can't either," she said, turning her head slightly to kiss his cheek.

"I don't believe my parents are too enthused about the idea of us together," Robert said, still holding Cora close.

"At least my mother hit it off with your father, which now that I say it sounds rather horrifying."

Robert chuckled. "I haven't seen my mother this out of sorts since she caught one of our family's maids giving my father extra attention."

"What did she do?"

Robert shook his head. "Oh it was entirely innocent, except it didn't seem that way to my mother. They apparently bonded over the same book or something. I wasn't privy to all the details."

Cora chuckled. "No, I meant what did your mother do?"

Robert threw his head back, laughing. "Oh! When she caught the two of them alone in the library, she didn't hesitate to let the entire house know they were in there. The maid was let go unfortunately and Mama refused to speak with Papa for a week. This was quite a while ago, I hardly remember it."

Cora played with the seam at his shoulder. "Well I know I can trust you."

"Of course you can, darling. No one could ever come between us."

"Not even your mother?"

He smiled. "Not even my mother. I promised you before in one of my letters that for as long as you and I are together, I will never hurt or betray you."

"You know, for an Englishman you really do have a way with words."

Robert tilted his head to the side. "Oh?"

"Perhaps it's just your accent."

"Only my accent?"

Cora smiled. "You know what I mean, Robert."

"I don't know. I think I may need an in-depth explanation."

She shook her head, still grinning. "We should be heading back downstairs."

"I know, but one more kiss? I don't know when I'll see you next. You're heading to Berkshire this weekend."

"I promise I'll write to you," she said, tracing a line down his starched shirtfront.

"I'll miss you terribly."

"So will I, darling."

"Good, now come here."

With a short laugh, Cora met his kiss halfway, her fingers sliding through his hair while the others gripped his upper arm. She felt the weight of his hands on her hips, pulling her even closer to him.

Pulling away, Robert leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "I'll have to visit you in London more often. There's just something about this room . . ."

Cora smiled widely. "What?"

"I can't decide if it's the lighting or the beautiful woman standing in it."

"Robert!" She let out a throaty laugh, resting her hands on his shoulders. "We better go before you become too distracted again."

"It's your fault, my darling. I can't concentrate properly with you in my company."

She took his hand and opened the door. "You're such a flirt, Robert Crawley."

He entwined their fingers together. "But my intentions are serious, Miss Levinson."

She squeezed his hand. "I know they are. But we must be able to conduct ourselves properly, especially in front of our families."

Robert stopped them in the middle of the hallway and brought her hand up to his lips. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Smiling, Cora could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She didn't know which she liked being called more: _darling_ or _sweetheart_. But the gesture of his hand-kisses always seemed to make her knees go weak. "I mean it," she said, continuing down the hallway. "You can't make a fool of yourself in front of everyone."

"Only when I'm with you."

"You are incorrigible, you know that?"

Robert laughed as they approached the stairs, feeling her squeeze his hand before she let go. He glanced over at her as they began their descent. Her face was now serious but he could still see a red tinge to her cheeks, beginning to fade but still there. If she only knew what her presence did to him. As frightening as it was to voice his feelings for Cora out loud, Robert could proudly declare to himself that he had fallen for her. He wasn't exactly sure when, believing that love at first sight seemed too good to be true, but he couldn't deny it any longer. He simply loved her.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thank you for being patient and waiting for this update. We have a lot going on in this chapter, weaving between Robert and Cora's perspectives, along with our many supporting characters. I'm going to apologize in advance if I make Patrick, Robert's father, seem too harsh at times, but we know very little about his character in the first place I thought I'd mold him into how I've sort of imagined him being (in regards to the plot of my story). There is another note at the end, but I do hope everyone's been enjoying the story so far. It's been a challenge to write in a different time period and culture, especially dialogue, but it's been a blast so far.**

* * *

Chapter Five

After dinner with the Levinsons, the Crawleys returned to Grantham House in Belgrave Square just before midnight. Robert seemed to be in good spirits, Patrick noticed as he watched him climb the stairs with extra vigor. He couldn't say that his son's announcement surprised him, but the young woman he chose certainly did.

"Goodnight, Papa," Rosamund said, breaking his reverie. She leaned up to place a kiss to her father's cheek.

"Goodnight, darling," he replied. As Rosamund disappeared down the hallway at the top of the stairs, Patrick turned his attention to Violet. "My dear, there's something I wanted to look over in my study before I retire for the night."

"So you can go on ignoring me?" Violet questioned as she strode past her husband and up the stairs, not waiting for an answer.

Patrick just shook his head, retreating to his study.

Upstairs in her room, Violet dismissed her maid then climbed into bed, wondering if Patrick would be joining her. She picked up the book that was sitting on her bedside table, flipping to where she last left off. Nearly a half hour passed when she heard a knock at her door.

"May I come in?" she heard her husband say.

"Will you give me your full attention?"

"Violet . . ."

Silence.

"You may come in," she finally agreed, pretending to still be reading as Patrick slipped into her room, clad in his dressing gown and slippers.

"I understand that you're somewhat cross with me," he said, approaching the end of her bed.

"Somewhat?" Violet chuckled darkly. "I think that's the understatement of the year."

Patrick reached up to touch his forehead. "Darling, I'm trying to apologize to you."

"Well you certainly have a strange way of doing so."

"Violet, please!" Patrick shouted. "Just listen to me! Please?" he added, his voice softening. She nodded, closing her book. "First of all, I apologize for the way I ignored you at dinner tonight. I let that woman see into me and I should've kept my distance. But we cannot let Robert carry on with this American girl he's supposedly chosen."

"For once, I agree," Violet replied, leaning over to place her book back on her nightstand. "I mean she's nice enough, surly—even pretty, I'll give her that. But . . ."

Patrick understood. "The estate."

"Yes."

He moved to sit down at the foot of her bed. "Violet, we won't last another year—with the way things are at this point we'll be bankrupt. He needs to marry soon, otherwise I'll be forced to sell the house." He gestured around him, meaning their London home.

"Sell the _house?_ _Grantham_ _House_ —where this family has resided for every London season for the last century—"

"It wouldn't save us completely, but it would by us more time."

"No." Her reply was vehement. "I've run Downton for thirteen years alongside you, Patrick. I will not see all this go—lock, stock, and barrel—to some stranger from God knows where."

"Even so, we need to be realistic."

Violet sighed, shaking her head. "How did it come to this?"

Patrick hung his head. "It's my own fault, my dear, and I'm so dreadfully sorry. I don't want to give up our home either."

In an instant Violet flung the bedsheets aside and climbed over to kneel in front of her husband. She took his hands in hers. "My dear, Robert will come through. He couldn't possibly be serious about this girl. Eventually he'll lose interest in her once the season ends and she returns to America. He'll be labeled a fortune hunter when word gets out about the estate—there's nothing we can do about that."

Patrick let out a sigh. "I'm afraid it is serious between them."

Violet chuckled. "It's just an infatuation, Patrick, like all the others before her. Once he knows the true nature of our predicament he'll see reason that this American girl will never suffice." She snapped her fingers, a sudden idea forming. "Doesn't Herbert Strousse have a daughter? I heard from Lady Shackleton that they just received a big return on an overseas investment they made. He serves at the House of Lords with you. Surly we could arrange a meeting between the two."

Patrick shook his head. "It's deeper than an infatuation, Violet—much deeper."

Violet let go of his hands, furrowing her brow. "What do you mean?"

Patrick pulled a sheet of paper from the pocket of his dressing gown. "Robert wrote to her—a few days before the dinner. I don't know if he sent it, but this is what he said." He handed her the letter.

"How did you get it?" she asked, unfolding the paper.

"It was lying in plain sight on his desk when I went up to speak to him about his behavior the other day. I glanced at it briefly when he left to walk the dog, and seeing who it was addressed to, I read it more closely. I transcribed the letter so I could have a copy, which is why it's in my handwriting."

Violet chuckled again. "Stealing and transcribing letters. What's next? Hiring private detectives?" She continued to laugh, much to Patrick's dismay.

"I wouldn't have done it unless I had reason to." He waved his hand at her. "Anyway, just read it and you'll understand."

Finally acknowledging the seriousness of the issue, Violet turned back to the letter in her hand and began to read:

 _My darling Cora,_

 _I'm so very grateful to you and your mother for letting me stay the night. I regret my appalling behaviour in turning up on your doorstep unannounced smelling like a pub. Your mother had no reason to allow me to stay, but I suspect that you managed to persuade her otherwise, which I am extremely thankful for._

 _I must confess, I'm very much looking forward to having dinner with you this Thursday. Though I long for an evening alone with you, I do hope I get to know your mother a little better, for we haven't had the best of starts. Will your father join you and your mother in England soon? I'd very much like to meet him._

 _Amongst other things, may I say something frank? Of course you have no choice in the matter, but the truth is, I find myself thinking about you constantly. Every minute of the day I long to have you in my arms. Remember our first dance at the Javerton's Ball where we met? Or last night when we laid together in bed? Excuse me for sounding scandalous, but I cannot let go of the image of you in your nightgown. From the moment I first saw you, I've always found you beautiful, Cora, but never more so than when I rolled over to find you next to me in bed. It's made me realise that I want to spend my remaining days with you by my side (may that be ten weeks or sixty years, it doesn't matter)._

 _You are my better half, darling. On paper, I know we are not well suited for one another, especially in the eyes of society. But I find your American qualities to be utterly charming. I have yet to meet someone as kindhearted as you are. I know I shouldn't say it in a letter, but my English reticence often gets the better of me at times. You deserve to hear the words from my own mouth, but I cannot contain myself any longer. Every time I wish to say them to you, I find myself tongue-tied, so to speak. I hope you can forgive me._

 _I've fallen in love with you, Cora Levinson. I don't believe I've ever written truer words._

Violet looked up, confused. "It's unfinished," she said.

"Yes. I believe that's when we started arguing," Patrick explained.

She waved the letter at him. "Surly this isn't true?"

"It seems genuine to me."

"Even so. Robert must marry a _wealthy_ heiress. Whether he loves her or not makes no difference. I know of several couples who are unhappy and yet they persist for the good of the family."

"And then what?" Patrick questioned, snatching the letter from his wife's grip. "He'll just continue to carry on with the girl as his mistress. Frankly, I don't find her agreeing to such an arrangement." He shook his head. "No. Either way, she'll only bring scandal and shame on this family."

"What do you propose we do?"

Patrick folded the letter and tucked it back into the pocket of his dressing gown. "Well you heard the mother earlier at dinner. They're traveling to the countryside tomorrow. With Miss Levinson away what better time then for Robert to get acquainted with the newest debutantes of London society."

"Won't that be a little obvious?"

"Not if they're invited by Rosamund. She's bound to have made some close friendships during her outings."

Violet shifted back against the headboard of her bed. "Patrick?"

He looked up at her.

"Do you really think Robert is in love with that American girl?"

Patrick remained quiet for a moment, remembering the many looks shared between Cora and his son throughout dinner. "Yes, I think he is," he replied, looking Violet straight in the eye. "I'm just afraid it's going to be his undoing."

. . .

Cora looked up at the elegant country house as she and her mother were helped down from their carriage by a footman on the front drive. It seemed to tower above her, and Cora didn't think she'd ever seen a house so large before. She always thought her family's houses in New York and Newport were rather grand, but nothing quite like this. Up close, the stone exterior of the house hardly exhibited any cracks or damage, nor did it look to be fading, which was typical of most country homes.

On one side at the end of the drive, the uniformed staff stood proud and erect in a neat line alongside their employers, who were waiting to greet the new arrivals. Martha led the way, Cora and their maids following close behind.

"Mrs. Levinson," Lady Tarley said, leaning over to kiss Martha's cheek in greeting. "How nice to see you again."

"Cynthia," Martha drawled, her voice rising in pitch as she accepted the woman's embrace. "You were being too modest when we last spoke in London. Your home is simply extraordinary."

"Thank you, Mrs. Levinson," Lord Tarley interjected, reaching over to take hold of her hand.

"I can never understand why the English are always so formal." Martha shook her head, smiling. "Martha will suffice. We Americans tend to be a bit more relaxed in that regard." She glanced over at the line of servants to emphasize her point.

Lord Tarley politely smiled. "We're very much aware of that, Mrs. Levinson."

Martha laughed. "Jonathan, I don't believe you've met my daughter, Cora."

Cora stepped beside her mother and held out her hand, which Lord Tarley accepted, gently kissing the back of it.

"It's a pleasure, Miss Levinson," he said, not pulling his gaze away from hers. "Welcome to Coley Place."

Cora looked down at her feet, feeling her face turn red.

"Now, when does your nephew arrive?" Martha asked, breaking the silence. "I've heard so much about him."

"William won't be joining us until tomorrow," Lady Tarley explained, turning to head inside the house. "He's been out west—on the coast—taking in a fishing holiday before the hunting season starts."

"How interesting. Cora loves the ocean," Martha quipped, turning to wink at her daughter.

Cora rolled her eyes. Would she ever let up? she wondered as she followed her mother and Lady Tarley under the archway through the front doors, Lord Tarley beside her. She smiled at the butler, who was holding the door open for them. "Thank you," Cora whispered. He angled his head down in acknowledgment.

While the footmen and their maids brought their trunks and cases up to their designated rooms, Cora and Martha toured the ground floor of the house. The gardens would be explored the following day, they were told, after breakfast when the heat of summer wasn't so stifling. The estate was modest, Lord Tarley explained as they looked out at the manicured lawn from the wall of windows in the library. Finished only a few years ago in '86, he continued, Coley Place was only a hundred acres of land, but sizable enough to manage.

While her mother and Lady Tarley conversed over a table of family portraits, Cora ran her fingers across the many rows of books that lined the library's intricately designed shelves, amazed by the vast collection of history and literature. She was glad for the temporary reprieve, finding a lecture on the house they were staying in to be quite dull. Thankfully Lord Tarley had stepped out for the moment, having been summoned by the butler. It dismayed her how he seemed to hover behind her like a shadow, always near her as they moved from room to room. Even his gaze would linger, much too long for Cora's liking. It was only a weekend, she tried to tell herself. Then she'd be back in London with Robert, free to explore more of the city she thought rivaled New York.

Later in the evening, dinner proved to be interminable. It was just the four of them, so Cora was required to converse with Lord Tarley intermittenly throughout the seven courses, being placed in the chair to his left. He rambled on about the land and farms he owned, expressing his endless gratification over his tenants' crop production. All the while, Cora kept imagining that Robert was seated across from her, sending flirtatious glances from over the top of his wine glass. She absently smiled at the thought, not realizing that Lord Tarley was still speaking to her.

"So it's settled then," he said, reaching for his glass of water.

Cora was pulled from her reverie. "Hmm?"

"The farms. I thought you wanted to see them?"

Cora shook her head. "Oh, Lord Tarley, I think you misunderstood. I became lost in my thoughts earlier, I do apologize . . . Anyway, you'll have your nephew to welcome tomorrow. Surly you'd like to catch up with him."

He leaned towards her slightly, and Cora could smell the remnants of his overpowering cologne. "In truth, I much prefer your company over his," he whispered.

"Lord Tarley, we've only just met."

"I realize that. But I find you fascinating, Miss Levinson. Lady Tarley and I don't often entertain _foreigners_ like you and your mother."

Cora was unsure how to comprehend his use of the term _foreigner_ , finding his tone to be somewhat lascivious and degrading. The more she socialized with the English upperclass, the more Cora realized was that she'd never be able to fit in. She held a deep affection for Robert certainly, but would he really be satisfied with her American imperfections if they were to marry?

Cora tried to push her worries to the back of her mind, sensing Lord Tarley's impatience beside her. She turned in her chair to fully face him, noticing the thin hairs of his greying beard twitch as he tried to contain his smirk. "Even so, I think I'd rather stay here. Perhaps another time." She forced another smile, which he returned.

"Perhaps," he said, tilting his head to the side.

Now upstairs in the room she would be staying in, having politely declined after-dinner drinks in the drawing room, Cora sat patiently at the supplied vanity while her maid took down her hair.

"You look done in," Elizabeth observed, pulling the many pins from her mistress's hair.

Cora sighed, straightening herself in her chair. After sitting for two hours in an enclosed carriage, as well as a seven course dinner, her back ached terribly. "It's been quite a journey."

"Yes, it'll be good for you to get some extra sleep. Miss?" Elizabeth continued, noticing Cora's distant expression in the mirror. "Is something troubling you?"

Cora looked up and met her maid's gaze. "Not particularly. But Lord Tarley seems to have taken an interest in me. To be honest, I find it a bit unsettling."

Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "Hadn't you met him before while they were staying in London?"

Cora shook her head. "No. I only met Lady Tarley. I believe _he_ had business to take care of in the city instead."

"I'm sure he's more interested in our foreign ways," Elizabeth tried to assure her. "In the servants' hall I was called out by one of the footmen because I held my fork _in a funny way_ ," she continued, imitating an English accent. "It's so very different here."

"So you wouldn't want to live here, then?"

Elizabeth shook her head, her lip curling in disagreement. "I don't think I'd like it. I mean, I've enjoyed London, but I don't believe I can picture myself living here permenantly."

"I felt the same way at first," Cora replied, running her fingers through her hair.

"What changed your mind?"

Cora smiled, thinking of Robert. "Friendship."

. . .

On Friday morning, breakfast at Grantham House felt rather strained. Robert could sense it the moment he walked through to the dining room, seeing his father sat at the head of the table, his face obscured by the morning newspaper. Rosamund hadn't come down yet, and not a word was spoken between father and son as Robert finally took a seat, his plate full. He muttered a quick thank you to Barrington, the butler, as the older man set down a cup of tea for him.

"What are your plans today, Papa?" Robert asked, finding the silence between them nerve-wracking.

Patrick flipped the paper closed, folding it over one more time, before setting it off to the side. "I thought you and I could walk to the bank," he said, turning to look at his son. "I have some business to take care of and I could use your input on the matter."

"What sort of business?"

Patrick took a sip of his tea. "Estate dealings, that sort of thing."

"Shouldn't we consult Mr. Jarvis instead? He's the agent. I don't understand why—"

"That's exactly my point," Patrick interjected, "you don't understand." He paused to clear his throat, realizing how harsh he sounded. "Now's your chance to learn."

Robert looked down at his plate, feeling like a child who asked too many inane questions. "When are we going?" he muttered.

"After breakfast—as soon as your mother and sister are down. I'd prefer to avoid the chaos of London as much as I can." Patrick stood up, dropping his cloth napkin down on the table. "I'll be in my study until then."

As his father left him alone in the dining room, Robert let out a sigh. Since their argument over dining with the Levinsons a few days ago, Robert couldn't help but think how very different he was from the man he called "Papa". He could remember learning how to hunt and shoot with fond memories, but Robert never felt further from his father than when it came to family matters. His yellow Labrador retriever, Angus, now his most treasured companion, never dismissed an opportunity for attention and affection. So why did he feel so distant from his father?

As his thoughts drifted to taking the dog for his morning walk, Robert heard the _thump_ and _scratch_ of Angus's paws on the polished flooring of the hall, followed by a shriek from his sister.

A moment later Rosamund breezed into the dining room, Angus bounding towards him, a pale pink scarf dangling from his mouth. "Angus, old boy," Robert said, leaning over to scratch the dog behind the ears. "What have you got there?"

"Your precious _dog_ thought my silk scarf was a toy," Rosamund clarified as she began helping herself to breakfast.

Robert chuckled. "Good boy," he whispered down at the panting canine. "But we mustn't annoy Rosamund. We both know what a pain she can be when she's cross." He glanced over at his sister, who turned and gave him an annoyed glare.

"I'm serious, Robert. I know he does it on purpose." Rosamund sat down across from her brother. "That's the third scarf of mine he's ruined," she continued, then gave him a pointed look. "You aren't training him to do so, are you?"

Robert chuckled again. "No of course not." After a brief moment of tug of war, Robert managed to free Rosamund's scarf from Angus's jaw. He held it up with two fingers, a slight tear on one side, the ends dark with the dog's saliva. "Still intact—mostly." He tossed it across the table to her, where it landed unceremoniously over half of her face.

"I mean it, Robert." Rosamund pushed her damaged scarf to the chair next to her. "If I discover that you've been using Angus to destroy my clothes on purpose I'll tell Mama about what you did with that kitchen maid when you thought no one was watching."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Oh honestly, that was years ago, Rosamund. Don't you have anything better than that? . . . And it was only a kiss."

"It looked like you were trying to eat her mouth off, Robert."

Robert could feel the tips of his ears turning red as he recalled the memory. "Well she started it."

Rosamund raised an eyebrow at her brother. "I'm sure she did."

Robert shrugged, then smiled wickedly. "Wasn't there a footman you were keen on when you were fifteen? What was his name? Barnaby something?"

"His name was Brinson if I'm remembering correctly—Louis Brinson—and I wasn't _keen_ on him."

"Really? Because I can remember you turning as red as a tomato whenever he leaned down to serve you at dinner."

Rosamund flicked a piece of egg at her brother. "Shut up, Robert."

Robert laughed, flicking a small dollop of raspberry jam back in her direction, where it landed against her shoulder. "Now we're even."

"Robert!" she shrieked. "This is my favorite frock! Now look what you've done!"

They continued arguing back and forth until they both turned at the sound of their father clearing his throat. "For heaven's sake will the two of you stop acting like children in front of the staff?" he scolded. "You're embarrassing yourselves."

Robert and Rosamund glanced over at Barrington, who was standing still next to the breakfast buffet, arms held behind his back, a slight smile playing at the edge of his mouth.

"Robert, we're leaving," Patrick directed his son. "Your mother's in the sitting room."

Robert wiped his mouth with his napkin then obediently stood up from the table. As he walked by his sister, he whispered with a grin, "You were definitely keen," and then followed his father out to the foyer.

The streets of London were fairly crowded for a Friday morning, but eventually thinned out once Patrick and Robert neared the financial district.

"I apologize, Papa, about the display you saw in the dining room earlier this morning," Robert said, watching a passing carriage sail by. "Rosamund and I were just having fun . . ."

"Enough of this "having fun" business," his father replied, almost spitting the words at him. "It's time the two of you grew up."

Robert looked down at the road, tracing the lines of the cobblestones with his gaze, until he heard his father sigh deeply.

"I don't mean to sound harsh, Robert," Patrick said. "But your mother and I think it's time you were settled."

"I know. And I have been thinking about it, quite a lot lately, especially with what you said about the estate being in trouble."

Patrick swallowed hard as they crossed over onto Threadneedle Street, the Bank of England looming in the distance. Before the summer season began, he and Violet had let slip to their son that the estate was in trouble financially and that a secure marriage to a wealthy family would indeed help, but the fees necessary to keep Downton alive and running were greatly surmounting the capital it generated from its land and tenants. The Crawleys needed more than just _wealthy_ in-laws; they needed a _fortune_ , one that could be tied to the estate indefinitely without retraction. And he didn't think Cora Levinson, who originally hailed from Cincinnati, possessed such value, as kind as she seemed to be.

"And you're still sure of Miss Levinson?" he asked, turning to look at his son.

Robert smiled. "I am. I . . ." He cleared his throat, not quite ready to confess his true feelings for Cora out loud to his father. "Her family is wealthy," he added, "she's told me as such, and I realize we're in need of money, but . . ."

Patrick reached out and put a hand on Robert's arm, stopping them in the middle of the street. "I know you enjoy her company, son. But I don't believe Miss Levinson has what _we_ need."

"But, Papa—"

"I'm not saying you should get rid of her, just . . . keep your options open, so to speak." Patrick gave Robert a pat on the shoulder. "Now we must get on," he said, looking down at his pocket watch. "I don't want to be late."

They continued down Threadneedle Street, Robert a step behind, perturbed by what his father had just said. What did he mean by keeping his options open? He loved Cora—adored her to no end that sometimes it felt ridiculous. How could he possibly give that up? Until now it didn't occur to Robert that for most of his life he'd been competing for attention with a house his family didn't even own. What use was wealth and status if you couldn't be happy?

Robert cast a sideways glance at his father as they walked up the stone steps to the Bank of England, small birds and pigeons fluttering into the sky around them. He began to wonder if his father knew. But it didn't matter if Cora wasn't wealthy enough to save Downton. She was meant to be with him, he was certain.

* * *

 **AN: Just a few little things I wanted to explain. First of all, I am no expert on England's geography (being a Mid-western American like Cora), let alone 19th century England, so another apology if I'm totally off base (I did my best researching). The house Cora and Martha visit in Coley, Berkshire is an actual house. While perusing images online I came across Clouds House (I fictionalized it to be named Coley Place) which looks beautiful and small enough (when compared to Highclere Castle) to fit Lord and Lady Tarley. The house has an interesting story surrounding it, which I will incorporate into later chapters, and is technically located in Wiltshire, which neighbors the county of Berkshire, so I've altered the geography a bit, which I hope no one minds. And finally, based on their somewhat limited interaction with each other in the show, I picture Robert and Rosamund to be similar to Edith and Mary, having that distinct sibling rivalry but not quite as dramatic and tense. The next chapter shouldn't be as long of a wait as this one. I believe that should be it for author's notes, so if you're enjoying the story please favorite/follow/review (I do like feedback and knowing what readers think), etc., thanks!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Cora woke up Saturday morning to sunshine and chirping birds. The curtains were pulled back, suggesting that her maid, Elizabeth Andrews, would soon be back to get her dressed for breakfast. Sitting up in bed, Cora stretched her arms and legs, feeling refreshed after nine hours of sleep.

Finally slipping out of bed a moment later, Cora pulled on her dressing gown and padded over to the window, looking down at the team of gardeners watering the front lawn, flowers, and hedges. The brightness of summer seemed much more pronounced in the country, Cora noticed, than in the city, where the dullness of industry overshadowed the beauty of nature.

In a matter of minutes Cora became lost in the trees and fields stretching beyond the estate that she failed to hear the knock on her bedroom door.

"Miss?" Elizabeth called out, seeing her mistress standing in front of the window, seemingly lost in thought.

Cora spun around, smiling widely. "Good morning, Andrews."

Elizabeth bowed her head. "Good morning, miss."

"It's a beautiful day, is it not?"

Her maid smiled. "It is." She walked over to the wardrobe. "Shall we go with something light? I know you'll be exploring more of the estate today."

"Yes, I think that would be best."

"I'll just start your bath," Elizabeth said, moving on to the connected washroom.

Cora sat down at her vanity, thinking about composing a letter to Robert about her impressions of Berkshire and Coley Place. She began to wonder what he was up to back in London. Probably entertaining prominent guests, she thought. With a sigh, she turned back to the window, trying to remain enthusiastic about the day ahead, though she couldn't help but worry if she were to end up alone in Lord Tarley's company.

After breakfast with her mother and Lord and Lady Tarley, Cora spent the rest of the morning lounging in the library with a novel, having found one that interested her during her perusal the previous day. It wasn't until she heard the scattering of multiple footsteps outside in the hall that Cora looked up from her book, turning her head towards the doorway.

"His lordship's arrived!" she heard the voice of a young man exclaim, guessing that he was one of the footmen.

"Well don't dilly dally, go on—gather the others."

Cora recognized the gruff tone of the Tarley's butler. She stood up from the plush sofa and walked towards the wall of windows that overlooked the front lawn. Coming up the gravel drive, Cora watched an enclosed carriage, drawn by a pair of trotting dark brown horses, approach the house.

"Cora!"

She was startled by her mother's shrill voice, turning around to see her in the doorway, looking giddy yet somewhat frazzled in her cream and gold summer dress.

"Don't be a hermit, darling," Martha continued, "come out and meet the Tarley's nephew."

Cora had to refrain from rolling her eyes at her mother. She placed her book on a nearby table and without protest, followed Martha out to the great hall.

Through the open front doors, Cora could see that the carriage had come to a stop at the end of the drive. A tall figure stepped out, and she was only able to see the removal of a top hat before he was obscured by Lord Tarley, who moved to greet him first.

"I hear he's rather young to be a marquess," Martha whispered to her daughter while they waited for their hosts to return. "I wouldn't mention the death of his father . . . And always address him as y _our_ _l_ _ordship_ , never _sir,_ is that understood, Cora?"

Again, Cora wanted to roll her eyes. "Yes, Mother."

"Very good. Now stand up straight and don't forget to offer him your hand—knuckles pointing up. We don't want him thinking less of us just because we're American."

Cora let out an exasperated breath. "Yes, Mother."

"And I'll have none of that tone," Martha said, turning to look at her daughter. "And neither will his lordship."

Cora forced a smile. "Yes, Mother. Understood."

"You need to make an impression, Cora. Just because you have a suitor it doesn't mean you have to close off all your options."

Cora opened her mouth to protest but the mingling of voices grew louder as multiple pairs of footsteps entered the house. Doing as her mother instructed, Cora straightened her back as Lord and Lady Tarley separated like the red curtain at the opera house, revealing the Marquess as if he were a treasured jewel to be shone on display.

At the sight of the tall man, Cora had to remind herself to breathe. He was certainly handsome, dark blonde hair with a short nose and firm jaw, slightly resembling his uncle. And as he stepped closer, eyes that seemed to glow the most alluring shade of green.

"Mrs. Levinson, Miss Levinson," Lord Tarley began, "may I introduce you to my nephew, William, Marquess of Alnwick."

"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Levinson," William said, taking Martha's hand then turning to look at Cora. "Miss Levinson."

As her mother had explained, Cora held out her hand—knuckles pointing up—and the young man before her gently held the back of it to his lips. "Your lordship. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance."

William let go of her hand. "I apologize for not arriving yesterday. I've been on holiday."

"No need to apologize, your lordship," Cora said, bowing her head slightly. She couldn't meet his gaze, fearing that she would become lost in him.

William smiled. "Very well." He turned to his aunt and uncle. "I think I'll head upstairs to change."

"We're all going for a walk in the gardens, so I expect you to give the Levinsons a tour," Lady Tarley said, glancing over at Cora in particular.

"Of course," William replied, and in the next instant he was on his way up the stairs, closely followed by his valet and the footmen with his cases.

Outside, the sun gave off a heat that Cora was beginning to think was insufferable. She had on her cream-colored sun hat with the white ribbon and flowers sewn atop the brim, matching the pale yellow dress she and her maid had chosen, along with a pair of white heeled shoes. She was walking alongside Lord Tarley, her mother and Lady Tarley having stopped to admire a row of flowers a few yards back.

Cora grew increasingly nervous as Lord Tarley led her deeper into the gardens, gaining distance from the house. She tried to remain cheerful, though internally she wanted to scream.

"So how do you like William?" he asked, turning to look at her.

Cora didn't dare meet his gaze. "He's very polite. Though I didn't expect him to be quite so young."

"Yes. My brother-in-law—William's father—passed away just over a year ago."

"I'm terribly sorry. And his mother? Is she still living?"

"Yes, though when I visit her I can tell she's barely hanging on."

"Why doesn't she live here then?"

Lord Tarley started to laugh. "They must do things differently in America."

Cora furrowed her brow, trying not to take offense from his laughter. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that _here_ the widow moves out of the house while the son takes up the title and the estate. My sister wouldn't even live with us if she were on her deathbed." He shrugged. "It's just the way things are."

"I couldn't imagine that," Cora said. "Being away from your family when you've lost the one you love. I think I'd be terribly lonely."

Lord Tarley stopped them at a tall hedge, which was trimmed in an odd shape that Cora didn't recognize. He stepped close to her and Cora averted her gaze, feeling the pounding in her chest growing stronger and stronger.

"You know you're a lovely girl," he said, reaching up to graze the curve of her cheek with his finger.

Cora swallowed hard. "Lord Tarley . . ."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"You've certainly taken an interest in me."

"That's not what I asked." His hand found its way to her shoulder and slowly began drifting down her bare arm. "Now answer my question."

He seemed to be closer and all Cora wanted to do was try and push him away, or kick him, anything to keep him at a distance. "Please, Lord Tarley."

He leaned over and Cora twisted her head away from him. She could feel his warm breath against her ear as he whispered, "Your mother's told me about you and Mr. Crawley."

"Has she?" Cora said, feigning innocence, but knew she wasn't convincing enough as her voice trembled on the last word.

"Yes. She told me you're quite taken with him."

Cora squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of an appropriate response. "I enjoy his company." She flinched when she felt his hand settle on her waist.

"Do you enjoy my company, Miss Levinson?" he asked, and even though Cora still had her eyes closed, she could picture his lascivious grin. "You will look at me when I'm speaking to you." He raised his other hand to her neck, forcing Cora to look at him. "Your mother would be disappointed by your manners."

Looking him straight in the eye, Cora nearly spat in his face, replying without hesitation, "My mother would be _disgusted_ by you." She let out a gasp as his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of her hip. "And so would your nephew."

Lord Tarley chuckled. "William is too oblivious. You said so yourself—he's too young to be a marquess."

Then she felt his mouth on the side of her neck and Cora let out a shriek, shoving him back with as much strength as she could muster. Lord Tarley recovered quickly though, pinning her arms behind her back. "Your will to fight back only excites me further," he grinned, leaning down to bite her earlobe.

Again, Cora cried out, much louder this time, but the noise was quickly muffled by Lord Tarley's thick hand.

"Miss Levinson!"

She recognized the distant voice of William and she turned her head, looking for his tall figure.

At the sound of his nephew's voice, Lord Tarley stepped back, releasing Cora. "One word of this to anyone," he said, his eyes dark with anger, "and I'll make sure that society sees you for who you truly are—a selfish, lowlife American willing to seduce the nearest male."

Cora could feel warm tears filling her eyes as Lord Tarley straightened and brushed off the front of his tweed suit. The pain in her ear was slowly beginning to fade, but the pounding in her chest wouldn't cease. She wanted to fall to her knees and sob; wanted to feel Robert's arms around her, protecting her from harm.

"Miss Levinson?"

Looking up, Cora was met with the gentle gaze of William, the Marquess of Alnwick. While regaining her composure, she hadn't noticed Lord Tarley's timely escape.

"Are you all right? I thought I saw you with my uncle just a moment ago?"

Cora wiped her watery eyes with a finger, nodding her head. "There was a bee stuck in my hair and it startled me," she lied, turning her gaze away from him. "He managed to swat it away before it could do any damage."

William looked her up and down. "And you're sure you're all right?"

She straightened her sun hat. "Yes, I'm sure."

He smiled at her, and for a moment Cora could almost forget what Lord Tarley had nearly done to her. She looked to her left, searching for his retreating form, but he was already gone.

"May I show you what's left of the gardens?" William asked, holding out his arm.

"Of course, your lordship," Cora answered, taking his outstretched arm.

William's smile widened. "By the way," he said, leaning close, "you don't have to formally address me. I prefer being called William."

"If you're sure . . . William?"

He chuckled as he began leading them into an enclosed area of the gardens. "That's what I like about you Americans—you try too hard to be perfect, but you needn't be so."

"I've heard from my mother and your aunt that you're an admirer of America. Have you ever been there?"

"I have, actually—the eastern portion of it. Well myself and a couple of blokes landed in Canada first—Nova Scotia and New Brunswick—then traveled through what you Americans call New England. I will say that the hunting is rather favorable over there."

"Do you enjoy hunting?" Cora asked, admiring an angelic statue in the center of the garden, surrounded by a sparkling pool of water.

"I do—very much, in fact. Sports in general are what keep me occupied."

"What types of sports?" Though she was never fond of such physical activities, Cora found herself curious about the English standards of leisure.

"Oh, all sorts—cricket, riding, fishing, shooting . . . football. As a matter of fact, I've just taken up tennis."

Cora turned to look at him. He seemed to have an athletic build to him, she noticed, despite his tall and somewhat lanky form.

"Have you ever been to a football match?"

Cora shook her head. "I don't believe I have."

"You must see one while you're here in England—they're terrific fun. The Reading Football Club plays here in Coley Park, just down the road in fact. I shall have to take you. How long will you be staying with us?"

"My mother and I are staying through tomorrow. We plan to depart sometime after breakfast on Monday."

William shook his head. "Pity. I was looking forward to getting to know you better."

Cora looked down at the ground as they continued walking. It never seemed to end, she thought, the endless string of young men that were constantly being thrown at her feet, plotted out by her mother, she was sure. "I must tell you something, William," she said, lifting her gaze back up to him.

"Of course."

"I'm currently attached with someone," Cora explained, "and I'd hate for you to be disappointed if you found out from somebody else."

William let out a long breath. "I'll be honest with you, Cora, I am disappointed, but I'm glad that you told me." He smiled slightly. "But it's wonderful that you're engaged."

"We're not engaged . . . at least not yet. We've just announced our courtship, actually."

"That's still wonderful news. He's a lucky bloke."

Cora smiled, wishing that Robert could have accompanied her to Berkshire. He would have enjoyed himself here, she thought, remembering that he was also from the countryside. "He is—I mean, I'm sure he'd agree with you."

William laughed. "When you see him next you must give him my best wishes. And when the day comes, perhaps an invitation to the wedding?"

"Perhaps."

As they made their way in a circle, deciding to head back to the house, Cora couldn't help but smile, despite her awful encounter with Lord Tarley. She pictured a grand wedding in a beautiful church, possibly in London or perhaps in Yorkshire, with Robert waiting for her at the altar, looking regal and handsome in his tails. But most of all, Cora imagined her father beside her, giving her away to a man she knew made her happy.

When the house finally came into view a few minutes later, Cora thought it was about time her father make the trip across the Atlantic. But as her thoughts swirled with memories of home, Lord Tarley's words still seemed to echo in her head: _a_ _selfish, lowlife American willing to seduce the nearest male._

She could feel her body trembling with each step, and Cora wondered how she would be able to face Lord Tarley at luncheon and then again at dinner. Perhaps if she kept close to William he might leave her be?

Without really thinking, Cora reached down and took William's hand, needing the contact. He turned to look at her and smiled. She squeezed his hand in response, imagining that it was Robert beside her instead. After a day and a half she already missed his presence greatly. Once they returned to the house, Cora promised herself to write to him, having been too exhausted from traveling to do so the previous day.

. . .

Robert seemed to be in a daze as he strolled through Hyde Park with Angus by his side. With the park awash on a Saturday afternoon with men, women, and children, even other dogs, Robert was surprised by Angus's good behavior. Usually the canine grew excited at the sight of another dog or a sailing ball or disc. It seemed that his master's dreary mood had rubbed off on the Labrador, for not even a squirrel scurrying up a nearby tree had instigated a reaction.

Robert must have noticed as he glanced down at Angus. "I suppose you're feeling it too, aren't you, old boy." The canine raised his head at his master's voice and Robert stopped briefly to scratch him under the chin and behind the ears.

But Angus began to grow excited as Robert neared a vendor selling ice cream. Children were crowded around the vendor's cart, shouting and holding up hands while others tugged on their parents' sleeves. Ice cream was a popular treat for the summer, being fairly inexpensive nowadays due to the improved modes of refrigeration and Britain's increased supply of imported ice. There was even a novel way of serving it now: an edible shaped cone, which made the popular summer treat more convenient to sell and purchase.

Robert smiled anyway, despite the chaos, but a young boy of about three or four years old caught his attention. The boy looked to be alone, unable to pay for a scoop of ice cream it seemed as he watched the others around him squeal with delight.

Robert, keeping a firm hold on Angus's leash, approached the stand. He asked the vendor for a plain vanilla cone, handing over the necessary pennies as payment. He then turned to the young boy. "Hello there," Robert began, keeping his voice gentle as he crouched down to be level with the boy. "Are your parents near?" For a moment Robert was unsure if the boy understood him, but eventually he nodded, turning to point at a woman who was engaged in conversation with another couple across the walkway. "Do you think she'd mind if you had one of these?" Robert held out the ice cream cone, smiling as the boy's eyes lit up in wonder.

Without a word, the young boy shook his head back and forth vehemently, taking the melting ice cream cone in his small hands. A few drops fell from the top and Angus nudged forward to lick the grass and then the boy's fingers, causing him to giggle.

"Hey, that's not for you," Robert scolded, pulling Angus back by his collar, then looking once more at the boy. "You best get back to your parents before Angus tries to finish that off."

The boy did as Robert said, running off across the walkway to his mother. He pointed back at Robert as his mother questioned him about the frozen treat in his hands.

Robert stood up to look at them. The mother smiled and he tipped his hat in acknowledgment.

"Excuse me?"

At the sound of a tender, female voice, Robert turned around. A young woman, looking to be around his age or so, dressed in a white frock with thin blue stripes and a matching sun hat, stood before him.

"I'm sorry," she said, reaching up to touch her cheek in embarrassment. "I don't mean to interrupt you or anything, but I saw what you did for that little boy. I thought it was very touching."

Robert waved his free hand. "Oh, it was nothing."

The woman shook her head. "No. You didn't have to buy that boy an ice cream, but something compelled you to."

Robert smirked. "I suppose I've just been lucky enough to afford the finer things in life. But seeing that little boy looking sad and alone . . . A child should always feel happy at that age."

She smiled. "Very well said."

"Thank you."

"On second thought," she said, reaching out to touch his arm before he could walk away. "Would you care to share a pot of tea? I know a wonderful little tearoom not too far from here."

Robert looked down at his shoes for a moment then at Angus, who was panting with excitement. "I'm terribly flattered by your offer, miss—"

"Oh, it's Strousse—Emily Strousse."

She held out her hand and Robert carefully took it. "A pleasure, Miss Strousse. As I said, I'm terribly flattered by your offer but I've got this rascal with me." Robert chuckled, gently tugging on Angus's leash to emphasize his point. "I don't believe tearooms allow for such patrons."

Emily laughed. "No, I'm sure they don't. It was worth a try I suppose. Perhaps another time?"

Robert was silent for a moment. He'd been anticipating Cora's return from her trip to Berkshire, thinking of the many places he'd like to take her to make up for her long journey back to London. But he felt disappointed when there wasn't a letter from her in the morning post. He longed to hear what she thought of the English countryside, and though Berkshire wasn't the same as Yorkshire, he hoped to take her to Downton once the season ended in mid-August. But one pot of tea with a new acquaintance couldn't hurt, he thought.

"How about tomorrow afternoon? If you give me the name and address of the tearoom I could meet you there," Robert suggested.

Emily smiled. "Alright. Do you have a pen and paper?"

Robert dug around in his suit, pulling out the cheque book he rarely used and a pen. Tearing one out, he let Miss Strousse write down the name and address of the tearoom on the back.

"I don't believe I caught your name," she said, handing him back the cheque and pen.

"I'm Robert," he replied.

"Well it was a pleasure meeting you, Robert."

Robert tipped his head down in agreement. "Likewise."

"I'm hoping you'll be better company than the dinner my parents are forcing me to attend this evening."

Robert grimaced. "I know how that feels. My mother can be fairly domineering in that regard."

Emily laughed again. "Aren't all mothers?"

Robert chuckled. "I suppose you're right."

Their conversation came to a sudden halt, both unsure of how to politely go their separate ways.

"I should get this one back home," Robert said, breaking the silence as he looked down at Angus. "He's probably famished by now."

"Of course."

And before Robert could say something more, Emily Strousse breezed past him, the ends of her dress lightly brushing the leg of his dark trousers. He watched her for a moment, weaving through the crowds of adults and children until she was no longer in sight.

"C'mon, boy." With a whistle, Robert had Angus back by his side and the two of them began their walk back to Belgrave Square. And like Miss Strousse said, he wasn't looking forward to the dinner party his mama and papa had arranged. Perhaps composing a letter to Cora would put his mind at ease? But as he and Angus neared the exit of the park, Robert couldn't help but wonder if she was ignoring him. And then he remembered what his father had said the previous day: _keep your options open, so to speak._ Was this Emily Strousse one of those options? Robert shook his head at the thought. There was only ever Cora—no one else.

Later that evening, Robert stopped in the hallway on the second floor of Grantham House, checking his appearance one last time in the mirror that was hung on the wall. Their guests, he remembered, were friends of his parents, but he couldn't remember the family name. The couple had only one child—a daughter, which Robert didn't believe to be a coincidence. Since Cora and her mother had been away, his mother and father kept the house alive with visitors, usually young women who had just been introduced to London society. But none of them interested him like the young American he met in the courtyard of that lively ball.

"There you are," his mother said as Robert made his descent down the stairs. "I was beginning to think we needed to send a footman to fetch you."

"All is well, Mama," Robert replied, stepping over to kiss his mother's cheek.

Violet touched her son's arm. "Now I know you've heard it several times, but your father and I would appreciate it if you at least took an interest in this one."

Robert let out a long sigh. "And how many times do I have to tell you that I am already interested in someone. I will be polite and amicable, of course, but Cora is the woman I want to be with—the only woman."

"Robert, dear—"

Robert threw his hands up, causing his mother to take a step back to avoid being hit by his flailing arm. "No, Mama! I've made my decision and as soon as Cora's father visits England I will ask for her hand in marriage. That is final."

Patrick stepped forward in front of Violet. "Robert, we've discussed this at length."

"Yes, and it's getting very tiresome. Why don't you concentrate on Rosamund's love life?" Robert turned and gestured to his sister, who looked away in embarrassment. "I haven't seen either of you push her towards a potential husband."

"Robert, don't you care about Downton?" Patrick asked, dismissing his son's question.

Robert remained quiet for a moment, trying to control his temper. "Of course I do," he said, his voice low yet surprisingly calm. "It is my future and my life—so yes, of course I care about Downton!"

Patrick pointed a finger at Robert, matching his volume. "Then bloody well act like it! Because I'm tired of you shirking your responsibilities! You are this family's heir! I will not let you throw away everything I've built for the last twenty years for some American!" He pointed in the direction of the dining room. "Now you will sit next to Herbert Strousse's daughter at dinner and you will like it!"

Robert shook his head, remembering the name of the woman he met earlier in the park. "Wait. Herbert Strousse?"

Patrick adjusted his cufflinks, finding the motion to be somewhat calming. "Yes. We serve at the House of Lords together. He has a charming daughter about your age, and you will be on your best behavior tonight. Do I make myself clear?"

Robert still felt dumbstruck that he'd be sitting next to the woman he agreed to have tea with the following day. "Y-yes," he sputtered when he realized his father was waiting for an answer.

Patrick let a long breath escape his nose. "Good." He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. "They should be here any minute now."

And at promptly seven o'clock, the bell to the front door rang and the entire Crawley family snapped to attention, waiting for Barrington to open the door.

"Herbert," Patrick greeted first, shaking his friend's hand and then moving over to kiss his wife's cheek. "Amelia, you look splendid—not a day older than the last time we saw each other."

Amelia smiled, chuckling. "I see that humor of yours is still there, Patrick," she said then turned to Violet. "It's been so long, Violet."

"Mm, it has—much too long," she answered, accepting Amelia's greeting. "Your daughter must be quite the young woman now."

"She is. Emily, dear?" Amelia gestured for her to step forward. "This is Lord and Lady Grantham, dear friends of your father and I."

Emily stepped in front of her parents to meet Patrick and Violet, but froze in place upon seeing Robert standing next to his sister. She stared at him as if the whole affair were a cruel joke.

"I remember when you were just a little girl," Patrick commented.

Emily was quickly pulled from her reverie and she shook hear head, still not tearing her gaze away from Robert. He looked equally surprised. "I'm sorry."

Robert stepped forward, taking hold of her hand, bringing the back of it to his lips. "Miss Strousse," he whispered, dropping her hand. "We meet again."

She smiled. "Mr. Crawley."

Robert wanted to correct her about his title, but decided there was no point to it. They'd already met, though informally, it wouldn't make any difference now if she knew. "I hope I prove to be of good company this evening."

Emily laughed, surprising everyone by how at ease the pair seemed to be upon first meeting. "I'll be the judge of that."

Determined to prove to his parents that he could show a bit of interest, Robert held out his arm and Emily curled her hand around him. He led her to the dining room, his sister, parents, and their guests following close behind.

Dinner began with Violet and Patrick catching up with their friends, Herbert and Amelia Strousse. Robert and Rosamund shared conversations with Emily between courses. As the fish, which was the main course, started to be served around the table, Patrick cast a glance at his son. True to his word, Robert kept Emily engaged in conversation, even laughing at some of the things she said. He seemed happy and Patrick hoped that his son took a liking to Emily, as she clearly seemed taken with him already.

"Emily?" Patrick said, gaining the young woman's attention. "Have you and Robert met before? You seemed to recognize each other during introductions in the foyer."

Emily wiped the corner of her mouth with her cloth napkin. "As a matter of fact we have. We met in Hyde Park earlier this afternoon. You have a very considerate son, Lord and Lady Grantham."

Patrick tipped his head to the side, chuckling. "Oh? Sometimes I'm not so sure."

Emily turned in her chair to look at Robert. "He bought an ice cream for a little boy who couldn't afford one. I thought it was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen."

"You what?!" Violet exclaimed, dropping her fork.

Robert cleared his throat, not amused by being put on the spot. "Children should always be happy at a young age—at least that's what I believe. Anyway, it only cost me a few pennies."

"Only a few pennies," his mother sputtered. "Next thing we know you'll be handing out money willy-nilly to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that crosses your path."

"Mama, it was one time," Robert said, rolling his eyes. "Should I have a son of my own I would want him to have a happy childhood. Wouldn't you?" His mother pursed her lips, a sign Robert knew too well; one that meant he had won the battle, but still had yet to win the war.

"Well I think it's wonderful that you're such a good samaritan, Robert," Rosamund said, smiling over at her brother.

"Thank you, Rosamund. At least someone appreciates my kindness in this house."

Patrick glared at his son over the top of his wine glass.

Rosamund leaned over towards Robert. "Don't worry about, Papa. He's too caught up in his financial worries."

"I just don't understand why he can't let me be happy with my own life," Robert whispered back.

"He'll come around."

Robert tried to agree with his sister, but he knew that his father was far more interested in the estate than his family.

Dinner continued on without issue and once dessert was finished and cleared, everyone retired to the drawing room. Robert stood by the fireplace, which was lit, even though it was the middle of summer, sipping from his glass of brandy. Emily approached him and he forced a smile.

"You look like you want to disappear through the floor," she said, noticing that his gaze had been centered for some time on the pattern of the oriental rug that was under his feet.

"Do I?"

"I hope it's not because of me."

"Of course not," he quickly assured her, though he could tell he didn't sound too convincing.

"I'd like to believe you," she said, "but I can tell your heart's not in it." Turning away from him, Emily left the drawing room.

"Miss Strousse . . ." He reached out for her but she was already out the door. Swallowing back what was left of his brandy, Robert followed after her, aware that everyone else was watching him. Thankfully one of the footmen had noticed where she went for he found her standing outside on the terrace in the small back garden. She didn't turn around, but he was certain that she heard him approach her.

"I apologize, Miss Strousse," Robert said, coming to to a stop beside her.

"I understand," she said, looking down at her heeled shoes. "Tonight was just a setup—I've been through it many times now, but I have to know."

She finally turned to look at him. "Know what?" he asked.

"Are you really interested in me, Robert? Or have you just been playing along because of your parents?"

Robert remained quiet.

"I see."

She moved away from him again, but this time Robert stopped her, taking hold of her arm. "No, wait. Emily. I'm sorry." He paused to take a breath. "I didn't intend to like you, especially since we had already met prior to tonight's dinner, but I do. I . . . and if circumstances were different I think something could have came from this. But I've already promised myself to someone."

Her eyes softened as she watched him beside her. "I understand. But your parents . . ."

Robert shook his head. "They don't approve of who I've chosen. They keep trying to convince me that I won't be satisfied with her—that she doesn't have what my family needs—what my father needs." He felt her hand graze his, and Robert curled his fingers around hers. "She's an American and according to my parents, a completely unacceptable wife for a future earl, but I . . ." Robert swallowed hard, trying to control the tears that had begun to form at the corner of his eyes. "I love her a great deal and I'm certain that I want to spend my life with her, and if that means leaving England to be with her then I will."

He chuckled through his tears, reaching up to wipe them away. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to embarrass you."

Emily covered their joined hands with her free one. "You're not embarrassing me. You love her—there's nothing wrong in that, Robert." They grew silent, listening to the distant sound of horses and carriages rumbling up the street, combined with the buzzing of summer insects, seemed almost calming. "You must tell her—your American girl, that is. I understand the pressure you're feeling, being the product of nobility myself, but don't let your parents dictate your decision. The world's always changing. Even people like us deserve to be happy."

She let go and stepped close to him, settling her hands on his shoulders. Leaning up on her toes, Emily kissed the rounded ball of his cheek below his left eye, feeling him stiffen against her. "Have tea with me tomorrow?" she whispered. "As friends."

"I'd like that," Robert replied.

"And you must introduce me to your American."

Robert frowned slightly, not comfortable with the term _your_ _American_. "Cora," he said, "Her name is Cora. And I think she'd enjoy meeting you as well."

Emily smiled, taking a step back from him. "You're a wonderful man, Robert Crawley. I only wish things were different."

Looking up at the black sky, Robert wondered whether Cora was still awake. He missed having her in his arms, especially after the night she climbed into bed with him at her family's house in Berkley Square. He preferred the country rather than London, finding the air to be less stifling and clear.

"And I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression at dinner," he said, returning his gaze to hers.

"I understand now, Robert. It's all right."

"I just hope I haven't hurt you."

Emily shook her head. "No. Maybe at first, but you have someone that means a great deal to you. I only hope that someday I can say the same thing."

Robert smiled. "I'm sure you will.

"Do you suppose we should head back inside? Our parents must be wondering where we've gone."

Robert chuckled. "They're probably thrilled we're alone somewhere."

"Shall we make them wait then?"

"Why not? It would serve my mother right."

They laughed, and Robert was relieved he hadn't ruined a budding friendship. Even though he was aware that Emily Strousse was interested in him, she understood that nothing serious would ever come between them. And for most of the young women he'd met during the season, very few of them were as understanding as she was. Now if only Cora's father would make the trip across the Atlantic.

* * *

 **A/N: I know you may not be enthused that Robert and Cora have grown close to other people, but I would imagine that those during the nineteenth century were fairly social, especially in a time where arranged marriages were common amongst the upper class and nobility. Anyway, William (the Marquess of Alnwick), Lord Tarley, and Emily Strousse do have a purpose to the story, but we will be back to Cobert in the next chapter with their reunion.**

 **And just a fun little fact that I found: the ice cream cone was newly introduced in England sometime during 1888. I'm not quite sure what propelled me to write that scene, but it just sort of popped up in my head as I pictured Robert walking through Hyde Park with his dog. I tend to get carried away in my writing sometimes, but I love it. Yeah, so reviews are much appreciated, especially to those readers who do give me feedback for every chapter—thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I sincerely apologize for taking so long to update. I had final projects and exams to finish up in April and May. But I'm officially finished with my college career and so I've been settling into my summer routine, trying to get in some writing time here and there while working. So the good news is that I have decided to do weekly updates. My Downton Abbey story will be updated on Sundays (I'll try to post early in the day for those of you in countries outside the U.S.) and for those who have also been following my Doc Martin story, I will be updating that on Wednesdays (possibly Thursdays, we'll have to see how it goes) as well. So yeah, it's nice to be back after a little break, but since the release of the official trailer for the Downton movie (I'm so pumped for September my family probably thinks I'm insane) I've basically been binge writing for the past three days and this is the result. So 9k words, including lots of Cobert fluff, family drama, a few secrets about Cora, and a very big confession from Robert! Sounds like a lot of fun, right? I think you'll enjoy this one though. Please review, I'd really like to hear your guy's thoughts on this one because it sort of got away from me a little (hence 9k words—my longest chapter ever written!).**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Robert was lying in bed late Sunday evening, staring up at the ceiling of his room. It was quiet, except for the soothing _pitter-patter_ of rain that had recently begun to fall. He let out a sigh, bringing one arm up to clasp his hand behind his head. It had been a rather uneventful day. He'd walked Angus earlier that morning, as was their usual routine, then spent an hour with his father learning the estate's accounts. It was a dreary business, he thought. Mathematics were never his strong suit, and along with economics, just seemed to make his head ache. He was just thankful he had years before he'd have to deal with it all himself. Then there was his afternoon with Emily Strousse.

He'd met her at the tearoom she suggested on Jermyn Street near St James's Square in Westminster. It had been another sunny, July day in London, and before entering the small establishment, Robert had to wipe away the sweat beading on his forehead. Emily had arrived first, he noticed, finding her at a small table in the middle of the room, out in the open.

"I wasn't expecting to be out on display," Robert said as he took a seat across from her.

Emily smiled at him. "I wanted the natural light," she said, gesturing with her head towards the front window. "I apologize if you're self-conscious, Lord Downton."

Robert smirked. "It's perfectly acceptable, Miss Strousse." She moved to pick up the pot of tea, but he waved her off. "I've got it. I'm not completely helpless."

She chuckled, watching as he poured them both a cup of tea. "I didn't say you were."

Robert couldn't stop smiling, finding her sense of humor fresh and delightful. "No. But you were thinking it."

Emily brought her cup up to her lips, still grinning. "Perhaps I was."

Robert dropped a cube of sugar into his tea, watching it dissolve before stirring it with his spoon. "Milk?" he offered, holding up the silver creamer. She shook her head and he poured a little into his cup.

Emily picked up one of the many small finger sandwiches laid out for them, biting into it. "So what are your plans this week?" she asked him, once she finished chewing. "Any glamorous balls or dinners you'll be attending?"

Robert glanced down at the sandwiches with a frown. He preferred scones and pastries. "No, at least I don't believe so," he said, returning his gaze to hers. "I'm planning to take Cora out for the evening when she returns tomorrow."

Emily's eyes widened. "Well, that is eventful."

"Yes. I'm hoping the journey back to London isn't too exhausting for her."

"I don't mean to pry, but where in America is she from?"

"She's originally from Cincinnati, which is in the Middle-west I think." He chuckled nervously. "I don't really know the geography that well. But her family resides in New York now—I do know where that is though."

Emily smiled at him. "Have you ever been?"

"To America, you mean?" She nodded and he continued, "No I haven't. But I'd like to—someday, at least."

As if she suddenly materialized, a young girl appeared at their table, dressed in a professional-looking pale blue dress and white apron. She set down a plate of scones, along with jars of butter and jams. Robert could feel his mouth watering at the sight.

"I'd love to travel more," Emily sighed. "But my parents don't like all the hassle that comes with it."

Robert was too busy spreading raspberry jam over his scone to hear her. He looked up at the sudden silence. "I'm sorry. That was terribly rude of me. You were saying?"

Emily waved her hand. "It's nothing. I was just saying that I'd like to travel more, but my parents find it inconvenient."

"So you reside in London all year long?"

She tore off a chunk from the scone on her plate. "We do. I like it here, but sometimes I wonder what it's like outside the city."

Robert took a sip of his tea. "You shall have to come to Downton sometime. Yorkshire's lovely all year round."

Emily frowned. "Yorkshire? That's north, isn't it?"

"Yes. There're many villages with several shops and establishments, acres of farmland, and rich, green fields that stretch on as far as the eye can see."

"That sounds absolutely enchanting."

Robert tilted his head to the side. "I suppose you could say so. I've lived there my entire life . . ."

They grew quiet, but Emily stared back at him. He was engrossed in his scone, and she wanted to laugh at the sight. "Robert?" she said, now serious.

He just started to reach for his second scone, but stopped at the sound of her voice. He glanced up at her. "Hmm?"

"I just . . ." She could feel her cheeks beginning to turn red. "I just wanted to say that I'm glad I met you."

"Likewise." He picked up his second scone.

"I really mean it, Robert." She reached over and placed her hand atop his, the one holding the scone. "I know you could never love me the way I've imagined you would, but I do hope we can remain friends—good friends for years to come."

Robert looked down at their hands then back up to Emily. "Of course we can."

She smiled. "I'm glad."

A gust of wind sent rain splattering against his window, pulling Robert from his reverie. The storm must have wakened Angus, who spent nearly every night in his master's room, as Robert spotted the dog's head perk up from his cushioned area on the floor near his desk. The dog began to whimper, and fearing that he might wake the rest of his family, Robert let out a soft whistle, patting the bed. Angus stood on command and jumped up to join his master.

"It's all right, boy," Robert whispered, stroking Angus's head. After a few minutes the dog drifted back to sleep.

Robert continued to run his hand over Angus's side, finding it difficult to sleep at the thought of seeing Cora again. She'd finally written to him, having found her letter mixed in with the afternoon post when he arrived back at Grantham House from his tea with Emily. He'd been curious to know how her time in Berkshire went, hoping she enjoyed England's countryside as much as he did.

Thinking that her words might help put him to sleep, Robert leaned over and felt around for the box of matches he kept on his nightstand. Finally lighting a candle, he retrieved Cora's letter from the drawer and settled back in bed, rearranging his pillows so he was sitting up. Angus didn't seem to be bothered, only briefly stirring at the slight shift of the mattress.

Robert smiled to himself as his eyes scanned over the letter he'd read nearly a dozen times, though for some reason, to him, her words sounded rather forced, as if she was trying to convince herself that she enjoyed her time there. But he didn't think too much into it, knowing how intimidating it could be being in a country that was far from home.

 _Robert,_

 _I apologize for not writing sooner. The carriage ride with my mother, along with a seven course dinner, left me terribly exhausted the other night. I just hope the journey back to London isn't as tiring._

 _You'll be pleased to know that I rather enjoyed being away from the city for a few days. I wouldn't say it was exactly freeing, so to speak, but definitely refreshing. I can understand why you prefer the countryside over London. It's simply breathtaking here, though I wish you could have joined me. Lord and Lady Tarley were very kind in letting my mother and I stay with them, but I would have loved exploring the gardens of Coley Place with you instead. I trust you've been keeping busy as well?_

 _Oh, Robert. I do miss you—so very much you know. I've grown used to having you next to me that I felt rather alone this weekend. Of course I have Mother to keep me company, but you know how she can be; it's not quite the same as being with you. I'm just glad we'll be able to see each other soon. I've written to my father, requesting that he visit my mother and I here in England. I do miss him of course, but to be entirely honest, I've enjoyed my freedom with you, despite how scandalous it may be. I've never felt so comfortable and connected to someone, and I hope you feel the same about me, because truly, darling, I don't know if I can picture a life without you in it._

 _On my last night at Coley Place I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. I feel so out of place here—in England, I mean. But I have you—my handsome Englishman—to remind me that I'm never alone. I do mean it when I say I miss you, and I'm so very happy that you found me at that ball. I don't know what I would've done had you not restored my confidence that night. So I think I'll leave you with one last thought: you make me feel cherished in the most simplest of ways, Robert—your smile and your voice, even your mere presence—it all makes me feel so special and wanted, especially by you. I just hope you've been well since I've been away, but I'll see you soon, darling._

 _Always yours,_

 _Cora_

Refolding her letter, Robert slipped it back inside the drawer of his bedside table, along with all the others. He'd written in response, and he was hoping that he made the right decision by waiting to confess his love for her in person. After his argument with his father, Robert realized that it wouldn't be fair to admit to such a feeling for the first time in writing.

He glanced down at Angus, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him. Running a hand over the dog's head and ears, Robert envied such innocence. "I do love her," he whispered, more to himself than the Labrador. "I can give her a good life, can't I?" As if he understood, Angus tilted his head up against his master's hand. Robert chuckled then leaned over and blew out the candle on his bedside table.

Settling back in bed, Robert closed his eyes, finding the continuing patter of rain relaxing. He turned onto his side and whispered her name into the darkness, silently wishing her a safe journey back to London.

. . .

It was just after midday when Cora and her mother arrived back to their townhouse in Berkley Square from their trip to Berkshire. Their maids, along with the two footmen, began hauling their trunks and cases up the stairs.

"I think I'll go up and rest," Cora said, turning to face her mother in the foyer.

"Of course, dear."

But before Cora could make her way to the staircase, Davis, the butler, cleared his throat. "Before you settle in, miss," he began, "I have an urgent message for you from Lord Downton, along with a letter."

Despite her exhaustion, Cora perked up at the mention of Robert's formal name. "Oh?" she questioned, though she had a pretty good idea what his message concerned.

The butler cleared his throat once more, obviously uncomfortable at being caught in between the young couple. "Yes. He stopped by earlier this morning and dropped it off, explaining its _grave_ importance."

Cora reached over and took the outstretched envelopes. "Thank you, Davis."

The butler bowed his head in response then turned to her mother. "Shall I have Mrs. Weaver begin preparing luncheon?"

"Yes," Martha replied as she watched her daughter scurry up the stairs. "I'll have a bit of a rest myself. But please send Miss Parker up to wake me before everything's ready. I'd like to change out of these clothes."

"Of course, ma'am," Davis replied. "And Miss Andrews as well?"

"I don't believe that'll be necessary. I have a feeling Cora will be more than awake once luncheon is served."

"Very well, ma'am." And with a final clearing of his throat, Davis turned on his heel to begin readying the dining room.

Upstairs in her room, Cora sat down at her vanity, smiling at her name scrawled across the front of the envelope in Robert's slanted, yet slightly uneven, handwriting. The first one, which she assumed was his "urgent message", she opened first.

 _Cora_ , it simply began,

 _I have something special planned for the two of us for your return to London. I will be arriving in Berkley Square at precisely seven o'clock to meet you. I trust you'll look absolutely stunning, though I do hope you won't be too exhausted to indulge me in an evening out. And as always, I look forward to having you by my side once again after days of being apart._

 _With great affection,_

 _Robert_

Cora smiled as she set his first letter down on her vanity. Glancing at the mantle clock above the fireplace, she mentally calculated the hours of which remained before he was due to arrive. She then opened the second envelope and unfolded the single sheet of stationary, surprised by how little he had written:

 _My darling one,_

 _I'm glad to know that you enjoyed basking in England's countryside. It makes me feel more at ease about inviting you to my family's estate in Yorkshire come the end of the season. Until then I hope we can continue seeing one another, for it pains me every time I am forced to part from you._

 _I missed you terribly, of course, but I was rather touched by your parting words in your last letter, as hard as it is for this stuffy Englishman to admit. Oh there are so many things I wish to say, sweetheart, but I dare say they would not compare to your rich and beautiful way with words. I hope you can regale me this evening though, for I have longed to hear your enticing and provocative voice for days now._

 _Until then, ever yours,_

 _Robert_

Even after a week of writing to one another, Cora still couldn't help the fluttering she felt in her stomach each time she read one of his letters. She neatly folded both pieces of paper and placed them in the slim drawer of her vanity where all the others were kept, wondering if Robert saved all of her letters as well.

Standing up from the chair at her vanity, Cora padded over to her wardrobe, an added bounce to her step. Opening the doors, she perused through every dress, wanting their first evening out together to be special. But one gown in particular still seemed to be missing. Frowning slightly, Cora walked over to the bell pull to ring for her maid, a lazy smile appearing as she remembered the words in his message: _I trust you'll look absolutely stunning._ She was determined to show him much more than just _stunning_.

That evening at Grantham House, Robert just finished adding an extra dash of cologne to both sides of his neck. After his valet, Charles, though he preferred calling him Carson, left his dressing room, Robert adjusted the cuffs of his dinner jacket then straightened his tie, wanting his appearance to be as perfect and polished as he could make it. With one last glance in the mirror, smoothing back the hair at his right temple, Robert let out a deep breath. "There's nothing to be nervous about," he whispered. _It's only Cora_ , he reminded himself, though he felt as if he were having dinner with the King and Queen he was so nervous. He shook his head, as if the action could somehow erase the nerves he could feel building in the pit of his stomach.

Finally making his way down the stairs, Robert heard a shrill whistle, seeing his sister standing in the foyer, grinning up at him.

"My, my," Rosamund said, taking in his elegant appearance, "don't you look all grown up."

Robert rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Rosamund. I see you've dressed the part as well," he said, gesturing to her dark blue evening gown, which was paired with a set of shimmering jewels.

She began adjusting her black arm-length gloves. "This investor fellow I met while out with Papa the other day invited me to the theatre."

"I see. So Papa has finally got you interested in someone, then?"

Rosamund rolled her eyes at her brother. "Don't be churlish, Robert—"

"I wasn't. I'm merely saying that it's been a while since you've gone out with a man, let alone to the theatre . . ."

"—and it wasn't Papa's doing."

" . . . Of course a wealthy investor was bound to catch your eye."

Rosamund's eyes widened, wanting nothing more than to slap the smirk off her brother's face. "How dare you!" she hissed. "How dare you insinuate such a thing!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Rosamund, do calm down."

She crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him. "I will not—especially if you're going to speak to me like that. I hope you realize how lucky you are, Robert." He furrowed his brow, unable to respond as Rosamund continued, "You have a lovely young woman who's clearly enamored with you, though why she chose you is a mystery to me. And you and I both know that if Mama and Papa had their way she wouldn't even be an option for you."

Robert clenched his jaw, feeling his face turn red. "Don't bring Cora into this."

Rosamund's tone softened. "I really like her, Robert, truly, but you and I know that she'll never fit into our world. She won't save Downton—"

"For the hundredth time, I don't give a damn about the bloody money!" he shouted. "I'd rather be penniless if it meant I could be with her!"

"Is there something you wish to confess, Robert?"

Both siblings turned to see their mother standing in the doorway of the adjoining sitting room, slowly making her way towards them.

Robert squared his shoulders at his mother and lifted his chin, hoping for a surge of confidence as he wondered how much she had overheard. He licked his lips, breathing in deeply. "Yes. As a matter of fact I do have something I wish to confess. I will _not_ be forced to give up the woman I love," he said, his voice beginning to rise in volume. "I have made my decision and I don't bloody care where she's from! She's kind, polite, and far more dignified than either of you give her credit for! I know I don't deserve her, but I will make it my duty to ensure she is happy! And if Papa doesn't like it then he can lump it! Now if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be!" He adjusted his cufflinks and made for the door, but his mother's parting words stopped him.

"You'll regret your decision, Robert," Violet said, hoping for one last chance to install some sense into her son.

He didn't need to think twice about his reply. "That's where you're wrong, Mama. I love her. I don't believe you'd understand such a thing." And with a brief glance over at his sister, Robert signaled for Barrington to open the front door.

Violet let out an indignant huff at her son's comment. "Believe me, Robert, it won't last. You're too caught up in your physical attraction to this girl. She's an _American_. She barely understood which piece of silverware went with each course during that god awful dinner last week. Think how silly it'll be for some common girl to be running Downton Abbey; it's utterly absurd!"

He threw a hand up. "I don't fucking care what society thinks—"

"Robert James Crawley!" Violet gasped, disgusted by her son's vulgar language.

"I'll say what I bloody well want!" He tapped his chest with his index finger. "This is my life—not yours! You don't get to ruin it because Papa buggered the estate!"

Violet flinched, fighting the terrible urge to strike him across the face. " _Get out!_ " she hissed. " _Now!_ I want you out of my house!"

For a moment Robert just stared back at his mother, unsure if he'd ever heard her say such a thing before. Briefly glancing at Barrington, who was still poised at the front door, staring straight ahead as if he hadn't heard a single word, Robert looked back to his mother. "Gladly," he said, sounding more amused than angry. He turned on his heel and Barrington fumbled for the doorknob, eventually pulling it open.

It wasn't until Robert leaned back in the cushioned seat of the waiting carriage that he realized he'd been sweating. He could feel the perspiration running down the sides of his cheeks and the back of his neck. If he wasn't due to meet Cora he might have loosened his tie, but for the time being he was forced to sit in the mess he'd made with his mother. "Good riddance," he muttered under his breath. As much as any son loved his mother, Robert was glad for the temporary reprieve. He'd had enough of his parents' degrading and insulting comments about Cora. To him, she was utterly flawless—in every way possible.

As a mere afterthought, he lifted his chin, feeling somewhat victorious and proud to be the one to stand up for her. And it didn't matter if he wasn't allowed back home because he'd do it again in a heartbeat—or as many times as it took to get his parents to accept her. Not wanting to let his anger with his mother ruin the rest of his evening, Robert closed his eyes, picturing her perfect smile and those beguiling blue eyes of hers.

"Sir?"

There was a tap against the door of the carriage and Robert snapped his eyes open, not realizing how much time had passed.

"We've arrived, my lord," the driver repeated, opening the side door.

"Thank you," Robert said as he stepped out in front of the Levinson's townhouse. "I should only be a few minutes," he assured the man before climbing the few steps to the front door. After straightening his tie once more and making sure his hair was neatly smoothed back, Robert rang the bell.

"Ah, Davis," he greeted the butler once the door was opened.

"Sir." The older man gave a curt nod.

Robert stepped forward into the house and as usual, couldn't help but compare it to Grantham House. Quickly stealing a glance at the large grandfather clock situated against the wall to his right, he was surprised that he was on time, considering what transpired across town. He began flexing his fingers, now eager as ever to see her. He was about to ask Davis to send for her when the voice he longed to hear for days reached his ears.

"Robert," he heard Cora say, and he looked up, needing to catch his breath at the sight of her. She was standing at the top of the stairs looking down at him. But what caught his attention was the crème dress she'd worn the night they met. Even from a distance she looked exquisite. She began to descend the stairs when an overpowering sense of elation coursed through him. His legs seemed to move of their own accord and before he knew it, he was taking the stairs two at a time, meeting her near the top.

"Rob—" she began but was quickly cut off by his mouth covering hers, his arms wrapping around her.

He fully expected her to pull away at first contact, but when he felt one of her hands on his arm he increased the pressure of his mouth against hers, deepening their embrace. He didn't know what possessed him to kiss her with such passion. Perhaps it was because of the anger he felt towards his mother. Or the fact that he simply missed her since she'd been away. But deep down he knew it was because he couldn't imagine his life without her.

The moment she felt his lips touch hers she knew she should have pulled back, but she couldn't help her desire to kiss him after such a long weekend apart. With her eyes closed, completely consumed by him, Cora fought the urge to wrap her arms around his neck. They'd already broken their promise to keep their physical affection for each other private, but the house was quiet, her mother having retired to the sitting room quite some time ago with a book and a generous glass of brandy.

After what seemed like minutes, Robert finally pulled away, breathing heavily. He didn't trust himself to speak he was so happy to see her again. He simply gazed at her, his eyes filled with desire and complete adoration.

"Are you pleased, Lord Downton?" Cora said, chuckling lightly as she reached up to straighten the ends of his black tie. "Do I fit your criteria of _stunning_?"

Robert shook his head, still unable to say a word. "You are much more than stunning, Cora," he eventually managed to get out. "I . . . there are no words to describe how beautiful you look." He glanced down at her evening gown. "And do you know what this dress does to me?"

Cora smiled, shaking her head.

"I can't resist you."

She reached up and touched his clean-shaven cheek. "How will I be able to control you this evening?"

He covered the hand on his cheek with his own, turning it slightly to kiss the center of her palm. "I'll be on my best behavior—I promise."

She gently pulled her hand away. "I'll hold you to it."

Robert chuckled. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." He offered her his arm. "Now . . . Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?"

Cora smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. "Of course, Lord Downton."

After a rather quiet carriage ride, Robert was forced to let go of Cora's hand as they arrived at the Criterion on Piccadilly in Central London.

"Robert, the Criterion?" Cora said as he helped her out of the carriage. She'd only ever heard of the place in passing.

"I want our first evening alone together to be special," he explained. "We'll have dinner and then I planned for us to go dancing afterwards—that is, if you're not too tired."

Turning to look up at the massive five-story building, Cora couldn't contain her astonishment. "Oh, Robert . . . We're really dining here?"

Robert chuckled, gently taking hold of her arm as he steered them towards the entrance, where two uniformed men were poised on either side, holding the front doors open. "We are," he said, guiding her through to the front lobby. "And I plan to show you much more than just dinner and dancing."

Her gaze had lingered away from him, taking in the gold, ornamental interior surrounding them. He smiled when he felt her hand tighten around the crook of his arm, sensing her obvious surprise and excitement.

After checking in, Robert and Cora were led to a small table for two with a cushioned booth on one side and a single chair on the other. He let Cora take the cushioned side while he sat down across from her. Due to Robert's high social-standing, they were immediately greeted by a smartly dressed waiter carrying a bottle of champagne, which he settled in the ice bucket next to their table. After the usual greetings and introductions, he left the couple to peruse through the menu before returning to open the bottle of chilled champagne.

"This all so fancy, Robert," Cora remarked once the waiter left with their dinner orders. She picked up her champagne flute, watching the tiny bubbles fizzle and fade before taking a small sip.

"It's all for you, darling," he replied, smiling and lifting his glass in a toast. "To the loveliest woman in all of London."

"I highly doubt that," she murmured softly, taking another sip of champagne.

"I know I could have taken you anywhere, but I wanted someplace where we could get to know each other better . . . and you know I can't resist having the chance to twirl you around the dance floor again, more formally this time, of course."

Cora smiled, wishing he didn't have his hands in his lap, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm skin against hers. "You know I don't believe I ever thanked you for coming to my rescue that night," she said, alluding to the ball where they first met.

Pulling his hands from under the table, Robert reached over and covered her hand with his own. "You don't have to thank me, Cora, I'm just glad I found you." His grin turned serious. "But I like to think that _you_ rescued me instead." She tilted her head in confusion. "I'd felt so lost for a while," he began to explain, "having women pushed at me from every direction, but you . . . you sparked something in me that night, Cora, the moment I first saw you, and I . . ." He paused, swallowing the three words he knew he wanted to say to her. "I'm forever thankful because I'm so captivated by you—everything about you sets my heart racing—your smile and your laugh, but most of all it's your eyes that get my pulse going, how rich and beautiful they are . . ." He smiled, feeling her fingers entwine with his. "I never want to be without you," he confessed, bringing her hand up to his lips.

Cora knew she was about to cry, but somehow managed to hold back her tears. Since he asked to court her she'd been so uncertain about their future together, whether their cultural differences would outweigh their affection for each other. But hearing him confess his desire to be with her . . . She couldn't help the feelings he stirred in her—every touch, kiss, and caress becoming something much more than just mutual friendship. _Is this what real love felt like?_ she wondered, becoming lost in those blue eyes of his. "I will always be here," she said, feeling the tears she'd been struggling to hold back finally escape down her cheeks. "I'll always be yours—because nobody has ever made me feel so loved."

"Oh, darling," Robert breathed out, reaching into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket to retrieve a handkerchief. "I never meant to make you cry."

Cora dabbed at the corners of her eyes and cheeks, shaking her head. "No, I'm just so happy," she smiled, handing back his handkerchief.

"I'm glad, otherwise I'd feel like a complete failure—" He wanted to say more but was interrupted by their waiter arriving with the starters.

"Here we are, my lord, miss," the waiter said, setting down two steaming bowls of soup.

"Thank you," Robert replied, draping his cloth napkin over his lap.

"Shall I start another bottle chilling?" the waiter asked after topping off their glasses, gesturing to the open bottle sitting in the ice bucket.

"No, thank you, I believe just the one bottle will be fine, right, darling?" Robert shifted his gaze to Cora.

She looked up from her soup. "Hmm? Oh, yes. I'm not very big on champagne anyway."

The waiter nodded. "Very well. Your main course will be out shortly."

"Thank you." Once the waiter had gone, Robert turned his attention back to Cora. "I've never asked, but do you enjoy English cuisine? That is, I'm sure food in America is much different from here."

"I've grown accustomed to it," Cora replied. "I do like this soup though." She chuckled lightly. "I suppose I'm not used to such rich cooking—creams and pastries. Game I'm not particularly fond of—duck and lamb seem to be my limit."

Robert smiled. "Then you should definitely visit Downton once the season ends. We host a marvelous shoot at the start of September and all the duck and pheasant collected gets prepared in the most exquisite meal. I believe you'd enjoy it."

"It does sound marvelous, as you put it, but what should happen if no ducks or pheasants are shot?"

"Well, then we're forced to eat fish," he said seriously, but after a moment they both burst into a fit of laughter. "No, our kitchen always has a few birds on hand should the shoot not turn out quite as successful."

"Do you participate—in the shoot, I mean?" Cora asked, feeling somewhat childish for asking such an inane question, but she found herself wanting to know who he was behind all the wealth and elegance.

"Of course. My Papa taught me when I was about eleven—no, I think it was the autumn I turned twelve."

Cora's eyes widened. "That's very young."

Robert shook his head. "Not particularly. He wanted me to learn before I went off to Eton for my formal studies."

"And what did you study?"

"Literature, philosophy, a bit of law and mathematics, of which I was forced due to the earldom I'd be inheriting." He chuckled. "Golly, those lessons were always a nightmare."

Cora smiled. "Why's that?"

"I was terrible with numbers—always have been. I dare say I'm not much better at them now."

"I could always teach you."

Robert raised a brow. "Oh? You know maths?"

A rather unladylike snort escaped Cora's nose. "Heavens no. But I'm sure that if we put our heads together we could figure anything out. My father's rather good with numbers—money, that is. He's taught me a thing or two about business."

"Well, in future now I know who to turn to if I should struggle with balancing the estate's ledgers." After another spoonful of soup, Robert asked her, "So, was your father always a businessman?"

Cora shook her head, smiling widely. "No. Oh, it's always his favorite story to tell. Let me see . . ." She drummed her fingers against the white table cloth, deciding the best way to begin her father's story. "He was in the Union Army during the American Civil War, years before I was born, where he met a man who worked in a starch mill. He always said he was a tough, rough-looking man, but one of the gentlest human beings he'd ever met. So of course once the war was over my father needed work, so the gentleman he met in the service brought him to a starch mill in Cincinnati. Their friendship grew and eventually my father took over running the mill and then decided to expand his dry good production out east, which is where our family currently resides. He owns more than half of all starch and grain mills in New York alone."

Robert could feel his eyes widening in fascination. "Golly," was all he could say, now curious as to how much wealth the Levinsons currently possessed. But he began to feel guilty just thinking about it, knowing how desperate his own family was in need of money. _It isn't like that_ , he quickly reminded himself. He didn't just love Cora for her money, but now that he knew how vast of a fortune she might actually carry, it may help sway his parents' misgivings in favor of a solid union between their two families.

"I don't like mentioning my father's business that much because money always seems to bring out the worst in people, and I think it's insulting and disgusting that a marriage be forged under such circumstances."

Robert swallowed hard, now finding his savory soup to be quite bland. But he quickly recovered, reaching over and clasping her hand. "I must promise you, Cora, I'm not interested in any of that. You're much more important to me than any amount of money." She squeezed his hand and he glanced away for a moment, wondering whether he should tell her about Downton's financial crisis. "I should really confess something to you," he began, but luckily he was interrupted by the arrival of their main course. He let go of her hand just as the waiter set down their plates and removed their soup bowls.

"You were going to say something?" Cora said, once she tucked into her lamb cutlet.

Robert grinned, waving his fork in a nonchalant circle. "It's nothing to bother you with for the moment. We can talk about it later." She nodded, and his excuse seemed to put her off for the time being. But as he swallowed a forkful of the beef fillet he ordered, he couldn't help but worry if she were to find out about his family's misfortune before he had the chance to tell her himself.

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time they finished dinner and dessert. "Do you still feel up to dancing?" Robert asked as he led her up to the ballroom on the third floor of the building.

"Of course," she answered, gripping his arm tightly as she carefully walked up the stairs, not wanting to trip on the ends of her mended dress. "How could I pass up the chance to be held in your arms?"

Robert chuckled. "I'd be utterly insulted if you did."

They could hear the music even before they reached the top of the stairs on the third floor.

"Oh, it's a waltz, Robert!" Cora exclaimed. "We must dance to this one; it's one of my favorites!" Extracting her arm from his, she took hold of his hand and began pulling him along to the open doorway. "We'll have to hurry!"

Once again Robert chuckled at her excitement. "Darling, slow down," he said, still laughing at her determination to dance to whatever time remained of the current song. "I don't want you to fall."

She turned her head back to look at him, a playful grin stretching the corners of her mouth. "I can handle myself perfectly well, Robert Crawley. It's your slow stride I'm worried about."

"Oh, really?" And the moment they both stepped through to the marginally-crowded ballroom, Robert swept her into his arms, gracefully transitioning to the movements of a waltz.

Cora giggled at his exaggerated dance moves, but found that he could keep in step to the rhythm of the playing orchestra.

"Do you still think my stride is too slow for you?" he joked, spinning them around another couple heading in their direction.

"Alright, Crawley, you've proved me wrong," Cora admitted, doing her best to keep up with his fancy footwork.

Robert smiled, and for the next two minutes, began to show off what a remarkable dancer and couple he and Cora made together. Everywhere they moved, people turned to watch the eligible Lord Downton and the unknown, dark-haired young woman swirl about the dance floor. Whispers emanated between couples, guessing who she could be and where she was from. Were they now the most principal item of the season? Or was she just another of the young lord's many dalliances?

"Robert," Cora whispered as the waltz began to fade. "Why is everyone watching us?"

Having been focused on Cora and the music, Robert now realized that many of the patrons and couples were staring at them. "Never mind them, darling, they're just jealous of the fact that we make such a wonderful team." He smiled to reassure her, but he could see a hesitant and slightly worried look pass over her features.

With the waltz finished, the orchestra transitioned to a much slower piece, allowing couples to part and mingle.

"Would you care for something to drink?" Robert asked, seeing waiters weaving amongst the crowds around the edges of the ballroom.

Cora nodded. "A glass of water would do nicely, thank you."

Still holding onto her right hand, Robert led them off the dance floor to an open area where other men and women stood to catch their breath. Leaving briefly and then quickly returning with two glasses, champagne for him and water for Cora, Robert watched her out of the corner of his eye.

For the next few minutes they both stood silently beside each other, sipping their drinks and listening to the strains of string instruments echoing throughout the brightly lit room. When a hauntingly beautiful melody erupted from the grand piano, Robert let the fingers of his left hand curl around Cora's hip, leaning over to whisper in her ear, "Dance with me to this one."

With her right hand, Cora unwound his arm from her waist and laced their fingers together, silently giving him her permission. Taking her empty water glass, Robert deposited both glasses on the silver tray of a nearby waiter, then once again led her back onto the dance floor.

With a slower song, Robert was allowed to hold Cora a bit more closely than he would for other dances, but giving in to the demands of propriety, he managed to prevent their chests and lower bodies from touching.

"I can't tell you what a marvelous evening this has been, Robert," Cora said, readjusting her grip on his left hand. "Thank you."

Robert smiled, becoming lost in her shimmering gaze. "You don't have to thank me, sweetheart. I enjoy getting the chance to spoil you." He turned them around in a slow circle.

She absently played with the seam at his shoulder. "I didn't have the best of times in Berkshire, you know," she confessed. "But I've managed to put that unpleasantness behind me knowing I'd get to see you when I returned."

Robert furrowed his brow. "Did something happen while you were there?" Her gaze had drifted away from his momentarily, feeling her grip on his left hand and right shoulder tighten. He implored her further, "Cora? You can look at me. Whatever you have to say will only be between us—you have my word on that."

"I can't," she breathed out. "I can't say it to you because it's so horribly awful, and I couldn't bear to have you think such hatred for me. I don't want to lose what we already have."

"It's all right, darling," he assured her, still slowly guiding her around the dance floor. "I could never hate you—just tell me what happened."

She looked up at him, smiling slightly at the lock of hair that had fallen out of place across his ear. "Not here," she said, letting go of his hand to bravely reach up and push the wayward strands of hair back behind his ear.

Her improper actions stopped them in the middle of the dance floor and Robert took hold of the hand that had touched him, entwining their fingers together. "We can speak in the carriage on the way home then."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to leave right away, or should we finish this last dance?"

"I'd rather finish our dance, if it's alright with you?"

Robert smiled. "Of course it's alright with me," he said, gracefully resuming their slow steps. "I do love holding you in my arms, you know."

Cora smiled slightly. "And I love feeling your strength around me. I feel so protected when I'm with you."

Going beyond what was deemed most inappropriate for a public ballroom, Robert leaned over to rest his cheek against her temple, brushing a light kiss there and murmuring softly, "I'm glad," before pulling away again, resuming their formal position.

. . .

"What do you mean he threatened you?" Robert asked, stunned by what Cora told him had occurred on the grounds of Lord and Lady Tarley's country home.

They were sitting in the carriage side by side, Cora gripping his hand while Robert was silently fuming. "He-he kept touching me," she went on, her voice hitching in the back of her throat. "And saying the most awful things about me."

"I'll make him pay," Robert said, doing his best to control his temper, which had already been tried enough for one day.

"Robert, don't," Cora pleaded with him, reaching for his other hand. "Please don't?"

"What did he say to you?" She didn't answer, so he asked her again, "Cora, what did Lord Tarley say to you?"

Her eyes kept drifting away from him, wanting to spare him the awful truth. "He said I was a selfish, lowlife American, and that I . . ." She swallowed hard, shaking her head as tears welled up in her eyes. "And that I willingly seduce the nearest male."

For a moment Robert was speechless. "Darling, come here," he said, opening his left arm and allowing her to move into his embrace. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know none of what he said is true."

"I know," she sniffled. "But I don't belong here—I never wanted to be here in the first place, but my mother wanted me to have a title, and I-I miss my home and my family and—"

"Shh," Robert soothed, bringing his free hand up to cradle her head against his shoulder, letting her dispense of her tears. "It's all right, sweetheart, I have you." She looked up at him then and he smiled down at her. "I know I'm not anywhere near as comforting as America and your family, but I'd like to try. Because I don't believe I could bear it if you went back home without me."

Cora sniffled through her tears again. "Robert, you don't mean that."

He reached over to swipe her tears away with his thumb. "Of course I do." He paused to take a breath, lifting her chin with his finger so she was looking at him. "I love you," he finally confessed, feeling somewhat lighter now that he'd expressed the words he longed to say to her for days now.

A combination of a sob and a laugh escaped Cora's throat at his exclamation. "You do?"

Robert grinned. "I do. I've been in love with you from the moment I first saw you." More tears escaped as Cora shook her head wildly, not quite believing him. "I've longed to tell you how I felt for days now; I just couldn't seem to find the right moment to tell you."

"It doesn't matter when, I just . . ." She stopped herself, unable to hold back her emotions any longer as her fingers gripped the lapel of his dinner jacket, pulling him to her in a desperate kiss.

Feeling somewhat surprised by her bold move, Robert kissed her back with just as much passion, parting her lips with his tongue. They seemed to ignite something in each other, Cora's fingers twining in the hair at the back of his neck while Robert's hand settled on her hip that was facing away from him. Again and again their mouths met in a series of long and short kisses, neither wanting to part from the other.

It wasn't until Cora pulled away that the heat between them began to dissipate. "I love you too, Robert," she said, leaning over so their foreheads were pressed against each other. "I should have said it earlier, but I love you—very much."

"Darling," Robert breathed out, finding it hard to focus on her with their heads so close together. "You make me so happy, so very, very happy." One of her hands slid from around the back of his neck to rest against his cheek, her fingers fiddling with the hair above his ear, and Robert covered it with his own. "Don't ever leave me."

"I won't."

He swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat. "If you go back to America, I'm coming with you."

His statement made her laugh, though she knew by the look in his eyes that he was serious. "I don't know how well that would go over with my mother, but I'd mean to try."

He chuckled along with her. "My own parents are being just as stubborn, but I'll find a way. You're everything a man could ever dream of, Cora, and I'm lucky enough to declare you as mine." He brought her hand down to rest against the center of his chest. "Because you have my heart forever, darling."

Cora melted at his words and she leaned forward for another long kiss, their hands still joined above his heart. A brief bump in the street caused the carriage to jostle slightly, pulling them apart from their embrace. Without a single word the two settled back in the cushioned seat, Robert's left arm wrapped around her waist while Cora leaned her head against his shoulder, her left hand entwined with his right.

Just as they had begun to grow comfortable, the carriage stopped and a moment later the coachman tapped on the door before pulling it open. "Berkley Square, my lord," he said, bowing his head once Robert stepped out.

Letting him help her out of the carriage, Cora kept her hand in his as he walked them up to the front door of the house. "Visit me tomorrow?" she asked, turning so they were face to face.

"If that's what you wish."

He'd shifted closer to her and Cora reached down to take his other hand. "I would. I'd like to see more of London with you."

"I'll write to you by the morning with a list of places. You can respond with the ones that catch your fancy . . . What is it? You're smiling."

Cora couldn't hide the blush that crept into her cheeks, now noticeable in the glow of the gas lights erected on either side of the front door. "I was thinking about what you said earlier in the carriage."

A sly grin spread across Robert's face. "Oh? And what, pray tell, was that?"

She pulled on their joined hands, causing him to take a step closer to her. "You said how terribly in love you've been with me."

He tilted his head to the side. "Did I?" he teased, feeling her pull his hands around her waist.

"Robert Crawley," she whined, moving her hands up the front of his dinner jacket.

"Okay, okay." He leaned forward so their noses just barely touched. "I love you, Cora Levinson—terribly, madly, and passionately—I love you."

Another smile appeared. "That's better," she said. "Now kiss me goodnight before the neighbors see us."

Letting out a low chuckle, Robert sealed the slim distance between them with an open-mouthed kiss that was sure to get the entire street talking if someone were to peek out their window and see them.

"I love you too, Robert," Cora whispered into his ear once they pulled apart, hugging him to her. "Terribly, madly, and passionately."

Stepping back from their final embrace, Robert brought one of her hands up to his lips, kissing her fingers. He turned to walk down the few steps but she wouldn't let him, keeping a firm grip on his hand. "I should really be going," he said, taking one step down from her, their arms outstretched.

"I don't want you to leave yet."

"Sweetheart, I'll you see tomorrow." He tried to let go of her hand once more but she tugged him back.

"We could go for a walk . . ."

"It's late, Cora, and we're both tired. We had an eventful evening . . ."

"Just a few more minutes, please?" she begged. "Please, Robert?"

Letting out a sigh, Robert stepped back up to the top step. "You realize it's this dress, don't you?" he said, glancing down at the crème gown she was wearing.

"Why do you think I chose it?"

"You are such a tease."

Cora let out a squealing laugh as he picked her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stealing another kiss as he twirled them in a circle on the front step of her family's townhouse.

Once her laughter died down, he set her back on her feet. "I really must go now."

She dropped her arms from around his neck, taking hold of his hand. "I'll dream of you."

Robert grinned. "Goodnight, darling," he said, grateful that she let him go when he turned around to head down the steps to the footpath that ran alongside the street. Before getting back inside the carriage, he looked back up at her and he almost couldn't believe how beautiful she looked standing there. He gave her one last smile and a wink before turning to face the coachman.

"Belgrave Square, sir?" the coachman asked.

"No. St James's Street—White's," Robert said, remembering the name of his father's club. He settled himself once more in the carriage, feeling its slight jerk as the horse pulled forward. He wasn't sure if he was allowed back home after what he'd said to his mother, but Robert couldn't have cared less. Cora loved him. For the time being, nothing else mattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Apologies for my brief absence lately. I had terrible writer's block for most of the summer and I felt that taking a break from fanfiction for a little while might help alleviate some of that frustration. The good news is that for the past couple of weeks I've been forcing myself to write a little everyday, and I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to do weekly updates like I promised. I know I planned for Sunday posts, but I just couldn't wait that long. I ended up seeing the movie on the 20th and I absolutely loved it, would definitely see it again! Anyway, this chapter is even longer than the last, and I promise it will not disappoint. You'll also find bracketed numbers next to certain words/phrases as you're reading that correspond to footnotes that are at the very end. This chapter took a lot of research and editing, which is why it's three months overdue, but I wanted to make it as perfect as I could for you guys. I'm also considering changing the title for this story, I just never really liked it all that much, so if it changes within the next few days don't be alarmed (that goes for the summary section too). And finally, thank you to those of you who have been leaving comments, your feedback and support really boosts my confidence as an amateur writer. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Bleak skies and thick gray clouds covered the whole of London Tuesday morning, hinting at the possibility of rain. But as her maid drew back the silk curtains in her room, Cora didn't mind that the sun refused to make an appearance. Her evening with Robert was still fresh in her mind, his declaration of love, especially, sent bursts of warmth straight to her heart. Not even the dreariest of mornings could ruin her mood, Cora decided as she slipped out of bed and moved towards the washroom. They were due to spend another day together exploring more of the city she'd grown to love. She did miss New York and America, though. But if she was being honest with herself, she didn't mind if her stay in London was more permanent.

By the time Cora arrived downstairs for breakfast, her mother was nearly finished, sipping the last of her strong coffee while reading the morning paper.

"Good morning, Mother!" Cora announced as she entered the dining room, her voice high and cheerful.

Martha looked up from the paper. "Morning, darling," she said, angling her head up as her daughter bent over to kiss her cheek. "You're up later than usual."

Cora began helping herself to eggs and bacon from the buffet. "Am I?"

"Mm. Did you have a late night?"

Cora paused for a moment, contemplating whether to tell her mother about her evening with Robert. "Not really. I suppose I just had a hard time falling asleep last night, that's all." She turned around from the breakfast buffet, smiling.

"Miss Parker informed me this morning that you didn't get in until almost midnight."

Cora sat down in the chair beside her mother, nodding her thanks as Davis poured her a generous glass of orange juice. "Really? I don't recall it being that late when we returned."

Martha let out an indignant huff. "Cora, you know how I feel about you being out unaccompanied with a man."

Cora rolled her eyes. "Mother, you've met Robert several times now. I don't see the need for me to have a chaperone . . ."

"But you aren't married—"

"He's courting me. Don't you think it would be silly for Andrews to tag along if he took me out to the theater? It'd be entirely inappropriate, let alone awkward . . ."

"What's _inappropriate_ is for you to be gallivanting around with a man who's clearly open and indecisive about his choice for a bride."

Cora shook her head, confused by her mother's choice of words. "What are you talking about, Mother?"

Martha turned around the newspaper she'd been reading to show her daughter. "Here—in the society pages of _The Times_ ," she said, pointing to the specific article. "Other than you, he's been seeing another woman."

"What? Mother, that's preposterous. Robert would never—"

 _"The eligible Lord Downton,"_ Martha began reading from the paper next to her breakfast plate, _"heir to the Earl of Grantham and the Downton Estate, has been considering his many options for his future bride. Reports have been made that the Viscount was seen publicly dining with a young woman, identified as Miss Emily Strousse, daughter of Sir Herbert and Amelia Strousse, at a tearoom on Jermyn Street in Central London. And just last night he was spotted at the Criterion with an unknown brunette. No one knows for certain which of the two women will become his future countess. But witnesses from the ballroom of the Criterion say that Lord Downton and his brunette companion were exceptionally friendly."_ She looked up, narrowing her eyes at her daughter. _"Exceptionally friendly?_ Cora? Don't tell me you encouraged him?"

"Why should I have to say?" Cora said, looking down at her untouched scrambled eggs. "It's no one else's business but mine and Robert's."

"It most certainly is my business when I read that my only daughter has been spotted out with a man whose reputation is anything but arrogant and disrespectful!"

"He's nothing of the sort!" Cora snapped back. "He's the kindest man I've met all season in this dreary city!" She picked up the folded newspaper and threw it down next to her mother in disgust. "And how can you believe anything those society pages say? It's all lies and gossip used to get women and mothers like you worked up and frantic over nothing." She stood up from her chair, having not taken a bite of her breakfast yet, and placed her hands on her hips, glowering down at her mother.

Martha glanced over at Davis, who was standing completely still next to the breakfast buffet, his face expressionless. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, darling," she said, looking back to her daughter.

Cora relaxed her shoulders and dropped her hands from her hips at her mother's softened tone. "I won't get hurt. He loves me, Mother. He promised me he would never do such a thing—and I believe him."

"But, Cora—"

She held up a hand. "No, Mother. I'm tired of hearing your excuses. I've made my choice and I have faith in it. He makes me happy—why can't you see that?"

"Because you deserve a good life, Cora."

"Robert can give me a good life—I know he can." Cora looked down at her hands for a moment then flicked her gaze back to Martha. "I know he isn't a duke or a prince or a marquess like you wanted, but I love him, Mother—more than I thought I would, but I do. And if he wasn't noble I still wouldn't change my mind. He makes my heart pound whenever I see him or read one of his letters. He's good to me. I wish you could see that." She blinked, allowing a few tears to escape down her cheeks. "Don't make me give him up—please—I couldn't bear it."

"Oh, Cora," Martha sighed, standing up from her chair to wrap her arms around her daughter. "I didn't realize how fond you were of him. All this time I thought it was a silly infatuation. I just never believed that my little girl had fallen in love."

"So you'll give him a chance?" Cora asked, sniffling through her tears. "A real chance?"

Again, Martha sighed. "I've only ever wanted you to be happy, Cora—you know that."

Cora pulled away from her mother and wiped at the tears still gathering at the corner of her eyes. "So does that mean I can . . . ?"

"For the time being, yes . . ."

A wide grin stretched Cora's cheeks. "Oh, Mother, thank you, thank you—"

"But if he mistreats you even once . . ."

Cora shook her head emphatically. "He won't."

Martha smiled slightly. "Good. Because I've received word from your father."

"Really? What did he say?"

"That he's agreed to make the journey across the Atlantic for a visit."

"Oh, Mother, that's wonderful!"

"He wrote a little something for you. Davis?"

In a blink the butler snapped to attention, bringing forward a silver salver with a single envelope placed on top.

"Does he know about Robert?" Cora asked her mother as she picked up the sealed letter.

"I only mentioned that you were interested in someone, and that it'd be best for him to come to England and meet him. What he thinks of the idea is beyond me. But I'm sure he's written his opinion on the matter."

Cora turned her father's letter over in her hand, refusing to meet her mother's gaze. "I hope you aren't angry with me, Mother, but I've made plans to see Robert again today." She looked up at Martha. "I thought it best that you know in advance before he arrives because I don't like it when we disagree on such things."

Martha opened her arms and Cora stepped into them. "I don't either, sweetheart. It's just difficult to see that you're not my little girl anymore." She brought her hands up to cup her daughter's cheeks. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman, Cora, and I hope Robert realizes how lucky he is to have you in his life."

Cora smiled. "I know he is."

"It just saddens me sometimes that you no longer need me, and I think that's been part of why I'm so hesitant about your relationship with Robert. I do want you to be married, sweetheart, I'm just not ready for you to be on your own yet."

Cora's smile faltered. "Oh, Mamma," she said, wrapping her arms around her mother in a fierce hug. "Of course I still need you—I'll always need you."

Despite their bittersweet moment, Martha could feel tears welling up in her eyes. "You haven't called me that in years."

Cora pulled away from her mother. "Don't worry, I'm still your little girl."

"Of course you are. It's just been so long . . ." Martha shook her head, allowing her dangling gold earrings to sway with the movement. "When you're a mother yourself someday you'll understand."

"I think that's what terrifies me the most," Cora admitted, now beginning to think of the future.

Martha smiled, imagining herself as a grandmother. "When the time comes you'll be exceptional at it—I'm sure of it."

"I hope so."

With a reassuring squeeze of her daughter's hand, Martha gestured with a nod of her head towards the table. "You should finish your breakfast. You'll need your energy if you're going to be out this afternoon."

A small smile reappeared as Cora sat back down at the table. "Thank you, Mother."

"And I trust you'll be wanting this," Martha said, sliding the small envelope that had been lying face down next to her breakfast plate towards her daughter. "I believe it's from Robert. I didn't want to upset you further after what I read in the paper, but now I know that I was wrong."

Cora turned over the envelope, feeling a sense of calm and elation as her eyes followed the crisp lines and curves of Robert's handwriting. "He's really very wonderful once you get to know him. I just hope Daddy feels the same."

Martha reached over to clasp her daughter's hand. "Don't you worry about that, sweetheart. If need be, I'll be the one to handle your father."

Cora smiled. "Thank you, Mother. I really mean it. And not just for accepting Robert and our courtship, but for everything—truly."

"Oh, Cora. You know I'm so very proud of you. And I'm sure that if your father were here now, he'd say the same thing."

Cora looked down at her plate, feeling her cheeks turn red. "I know," she said, glancing back up at her mother. "I just want him to be happy for me."

Martha chuckled. "Say any more and we'll have Davis bursting into tears."

Cora shook her head at her mother, now thankful that the earlier tension between them had dissipated. But as her gaze flicked across the dining room, seeing the newspaper still open to the society pages next to her mother's empty plate, she couldn't help but wonder about that other woman.

After a filling breakfast, Cora returned to the sanctum of her bedroom upstairs for privacy. She was more than curious to know what her father thought of her dashing suitor, Robert Crawley. She smiled to herself as she slit the top of the envelope her father sent with the slim knife she always kept lying atop her vanity. Three thick sheets of stationary fell into her fingers and Cora couldn't help but roll her eyes. Though her father wasn't a strong conversationalist in person, he somehow had the mind and vocabulary of an amateur novelist. But Cora didn't mind at all. Since being away from home for more than two months a lengthy letter from her papa was like the sugary icing that covered the cake.

Sitting down on the cushioned window seat that overlooked the street below, Cora smoothed the folded sheets of paper over her knee then began to read:

 _23 July, 1888_

 _My darling daughter,_

 _I suspect that your mother will have told you before you've even opened this, but I will be on board the SS City of New_ _York_ _[1]_ _tomorrow morning, which is bound for England and due to arrive in six days' time, at least that's what I was told upon the purchase of my ticket. My how transportation has evolved and improved over time! Just a few years ago I remember reading about that gentleman from Germany who crafted an automobile. No horse or carriage! Can you believe that, Cora? If only they could mass produce those contraptions over here in America! A man can only dream I suppose._

 _Well, in other news, my Red Stockings_ _[2]_ _are still hanging in there at 42-26—3.5 games behind St. Louis. I think we have what it takes to win the pennant this year. Harold has his money on the Giants[3]_ _to win the championship. Sometimes that boy is too full of himself. I only hope he uses that inheritance of his wisely._

 _I must say, sweetheart, that I'm very much looking forward to seeing you and your mother next week. Harold passed up the opportunity, but this way he'll be in charge of our business affairs while I'm gone, under the supervision of one of my partners of course. But I cannot wait to spoil you once I arrive on English soil. I've heard many a great things from you and your mother these past few months. Perhaps we'll take in an evening performance at the theater or dine at Pagani's? Maybe indulge ourselves at the many shops lining the streets near Trafalgar Square? It'll be up to you, darling—anything you want._

 _I miss you a great deal, you know . . . your mother too, of course. I do so worry about you, sweetheart, being so far away from home in another country. Yes I know you have your mother and your maid to look after you and keep you company, but you're only twenty years old, still a little girl in my eyes. You've grown into a fine young woman; it only pains me that I cannot be with you during this important phase of your life and all that there is to come._

 _I dislike bringing up these sensitive topics in such a distant manner, but I'm sure you're aware by now that your mother's informed me that you have a suitor. She didn't write much about him, but I hope he's a decent lad. Of course it was right of her to enlighten me of such matters. After all, it is not your mother's goal to leave England empty handed, so to speak. At first I was overjoyed to hear that you've opened your heart to someone, though it also worries me that from now on our time together will only dwindle because of it. And so now I've realized that it is because I love you that I have to let you go. You deserve the very best, sweetheart, and as your father I know I can't protect you from everything . . . or everyone, but I want you to know how proud I am of you. Not every young woman can adapt to a new country as well as you have. It's no wonder you've stolen some poor boy's heart. He must be exceptional if your mother is so insistent upon me meeting him, but I look forward to it nonetheless._

 _There's no need to write back since by the time this letter arrives to you I will already be afloat, drifting off somewhere in the Atlantic. I'm only hoping my stomach is strong enough to last me the entire journey. Boats have just never been my strong suit, but I'll live. And so with that I'll be arriving at the docks in Southampton on the 30th. Until then, I give my love to you and your mother, and as always, I wish you well, my darling girl._

 _Your loving father,_

 _Papa_

Cora smiled to herself as she re-folded her father's letter and slipped it back inside its matching envelope for safe-keeping. She was more than excited to see him again. It had been so long since she last heard her father's deep, velvety voice speak her name. Most of all she missed being wrapped in his strong arms, laughing as his bushy, but manicured, mustache tickled her skin whenever he kissed her cheek. Along with the faint smokiness of a good whisky and cigar, her father always smelt of dried grain and wood, of which she was never really able to forget, even after he'd long since departed from her world. In some form or another, her father would always be with her.

Soon Cora's gaze drifted to Robert's daily correspondence, which she left lying out of reach on the surface of her vanity. Rising to her feet she deposited her father's letter in a drawer then opened the one from Robert. Immediately she grew curious at the different stationary he used. _White's_ was printed at the top in a fashionable, curly script. It sounded like the name of a hotel or a restaurant. Perhaps he had business to take care of this morning? she wondered, refusing to believe it had anything to do with that other woman her mother told her about from the paper. There was bound to be a logical explanation for his whereabouts, surly. Her worry quickly subsided though as she remembered how gently yet passionately he had kissed her after declaring his deep love for her. The way he had looked at her and held her in his arms as they danced together the previous evening gave Cora the assurance she needed that there could be no one else but her.

Looking down, she turned her attention back to his letter. He hadn't written much, but as she read through it she couldn't help but imagine the two of them traipsing all across London together arm in arm, hand in hand, especially, when he suggested seeing the newly constructed Tower Bridge, which already seemed to be a staple landmark of the vast and growing city. His suggestion of lunch at a quiet corner café sounded decadent. And a walk to end the day along the River Thames just as dusk began to fall across the city seemed wonderfully romantic.

Sitting down at her vanity and laying out a clean sheet of stationary, Cora penned her response to Robert's letter. She didn't mind where they went or what they did, just so long as they were together.

. . .

Across town, not far from Berkley Square, Robert finished dressing himself—a task he preferred doing when he was away from home—and frowned, noticing a speck of dust on his left shoulder. It had been some time since he last spent the night at his father's club. His extra set of suits were beginning to feel a bit tight under the arms, and his shirts looked as if they had been shrunk in the laundry. The one he had on just barely reached down to the waist of his trousers. At least his waistline still seemed to be trim and unchanging, he noticed, turning from side to side in front of the full-length mirror to examine himself.

After tucking the key to his private room into the pocket of his waistcoat, Robert was ready to head down for breakfast. But as soon as he deposited the letter he'd written to Cora in the postbox at the end of the hall, he remembered that he didn't give her a return address for her response. He was still unsure if he was allowed back home after what transpired between him and his mother, and the last thing he wanted was to upset her further with his unwanted presence. But Cora seemed like the adventurous type and he was sure that his suggestions of sight-seeing were adequate enough, at least by American standards. He'd show her around Trafalgar Square and its adjoining streets, where several shops and expensive boutiques were lined. Then they'd break for lunch at a quaint café he'd found some years back while spending the day out with Rosamund. He only hoped that the weather cooperated enough for them to take a private boat ride down the Thames, where they would be able to see up close the Tower Bridge that just recently began construction two years prior. And if she wasn't too tired, dinner and a walk in the park would round out their day.

Other than the glamour and excitement that London had to offer, most of all Robert just longed to be near her. Even though she was much daintier than he was, they fit one another perfectly. It made him chuckle when he thought back to his mother's awful comments from the night before. She said they were too different, that it would never work between them because of their status. _She couldn't have been further from the truth_ , he thought, as he skipped down the velvet-lined stairs to breakfast, absently humming the tune of the waltz they had danced to just twelve hours earlier.

It was a little after half past eleven by the time Robert arrived at the Levinson's townhouse in Berkley Square. As he stood on the front step waiting to be greeted by the butler, Robert kept glancing up at the darkening sky, hoping his plans for a romantic boat ride down the Thames wouldn't be foiled by rain.

"Good morning, sir," Davis said once he pulled open the door.

Looking away from the menacing clouds above, Robert gave the older man a half smile and a nod. He took off his cream colored hat then stepped through to the foyer. "Morning, Davis."

"If you're here for Miss Levinson I'll let her know of your arrival."

"Yes, thank you, Davis."

The butler gave a slight bow of his head before turning on his heel, heading for the adjacent sitting room.

While he was waiting, Robert began pacing around the foyer until a framed family portrait hanging on the wall caught his eye. Upon closer examination he could pick out Cora standing beside a seated gentleman bearing a striking mustache. _That must be her father_ , he thought, gazing over the other members of the family. Cora's brother sprouted a rather grim expression, as if the effort of holding a smile for the camera became too painful for him. Then his gaze drifted back to Cora. She looked a few years younger there than she did now, smiling dutifully for the photographer, and he began to wonder if she really would be able to leave America and her family behind for a life with him in England. He would make her happy, he decided, stepping away from the portrait at the sound of a nearby door opening.

Turning around, Robert smiled at the sight of her. The off-white dress, complimented by patterns of black embroidery along the skirt and neckline, highlighted her delicate features, especially the blue of her eyes. "Cora." He took another moment to gaze at her. "Darling, you look exquisite," he said, reaching down to take hold of her hands.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replied, returning his smile with one of her own. He leaned in for a kiss, but she stopped him, placing her index finger on the cleft of his chin. "I guarantee you my mother is watching us."

Robert's smile turned to a mischievous grin. "Then why don't we give her something to look at?" Not waiting for a response, he leaned in again, but was stopped once more when she pulled her hand free from his grasp. "Cora?"

"Not until we're alone, Robert."

He frowned. "I just wanted to greet the woman I love properly, that's all."

Her heart fluttered at his words. "I know, but I'm still trying to convince my mother that you're an honorable and respectful man towards me."

"Nonsense!" he scoffed, shaking his head.

Cora leaned in closer to him, speaking in almost a whisper so no one could overhear her, "Apparently our presence at the Criterion last night landed us in the society pages this morning. Mother wasn't too thrilled by it."

Robert bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to lash out. "I see."

"I didn't like it either, Robert. I'm not ready for the whole of England to know who I am yet." She glanced down at the marble floor for a moment, watching her reflection in the shiny finish. "I rather like things the way they are," she said, looking up at him. "Just you and me."

He took hold of her hands again. "You leave the newspapers to me—I'll take care of it. I can't stand to see you unhappy, Cora."

She stepped forward and kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger far longer than what was deemed appropriate between a man and a woman. "If Mother can't see that as honorable then I don't know what is."

Robert smiled. "Don't worry. I've heard I can be very persuasive."

Cora laughed. "Well, don't live it up so high that you can't lie it down[4]."

Robert shook his head, chuckling. "Darling, I have absolutely no idea what that means."

"In American, it means _don't over do it_."

He continued to laugh. "I feel that your American slogans will only confuse me."

"You'll learn," Cora assured him. "And if it's any consolation, I don't really understand them either."

He leaned over to press his forehead against hers. "You are truly magnificent, you know that?"

She smiled, wishing she could just seal the distance between them with a kiss. "I rather like it when you tell me."

"I'll try and remember that," he said, taking a step back. "Now I believe I promised to show you more of London. So, shall we?"

"Of course," she replied, taking hold of his outstretched arm. "Where are we off to first?"

With his free hand, he placed his hat back on his head. "Somewhere I think you'll enjoy."

. . .

After a short carriage ride from her family's townhouse, Robert and Cora stepped off at Great Marlborough Street, where a towering, tudor-style building bearing the name LIBERTY stood before them.

"What's Liberty?" Cora asked, turning to look at Robert.

"It's a department store," he said, raising his eyebrows in wonderment. "I believe they're quite popular in America." She was silent, and Robert could sense she seemed a bit intimidated by the monstrosity of it. "Would you like to go in?"

A smile appeared as Cora nodded her head. "Very much so."

Taking hold of her arm, Robert led Cora inside and both of them had to catch their breath at the sight. Tables upon tables were filled with jewelry, perfumes, and assortments of accessories. Displays of clothing, men's, women's, and children's, lined every nook and cranny of the ground floor. Paintings for sale hung from walls, and glancing up at the open gallery to the second level, Robert could see rows of bureaus and wardrobes just waiting to be sold.

"I almost feel like I'm back home in New York," Cora said, gazing at a particularly enchanting evening gown that was on display. "I don't think I've seen anything like this since my mother took me to Lord and Taylor[5] for the fitting of my presentation gown."

"Is there something particular you'd like?" Robert asked, turning to look at her, smiling at her obvious excitement. He wasn't very enthusiastic about shopping himself, but the feel of a crisp, newly tailored suit was like a slice of heaven, along with a matching hat and overcoat, there wasn't much else that Robert craved for more. _Perhaps there was_ , he thought, stealing a glance at Cora.

It must have been at least an hour since they first stepped foot in the enormous building. And after trying on several frocks, evening gowns, and an assortment of suits and coats, Robert was nearly ready to faint from exhaustion and hunger. But Cora looked to be unfazed by it all, running on the energy of an entire army it seemed. She was lingering at a table holding cases of fine jewelry and accessories. The smartly dressed salesman in charge of such items kept insisting she try on whatever piqued her interest.

"Do you think I should?" she asked when a necklace with a shimmering diamond and sapphire encrusted pendant caught her eye.

"Why not? I think it would look stunning on you," Robert said, absently placing his free hand on the small of her back.

The salesman carefully picked up the necklace and handed it over to Cora. "Perhaps your husband would like to fasten it?" he suggested.

"We're not—"

"I'd be delighted to," Robert announced, taking the necklace and draping it around her neck before fastening it securely at the back, letting his fingers briefly smooth over her bare skin.

For a moment Cora was speechless, unable to make sense of his need to put on a charade in front of the salesman. "Well?" she said, turning to face Robert completely. "How does it look?"

Robert couldn't find the words to express himself properly. Despite the harsh overhead lighting, the jeweled pendant seemed to sparkle all on its own. "Oh, Cora," he finally breathed out. "Darling, you look beautiful—absolutely stunning."

"For your lovely wife, I'll give you a good deal," the salesman offered.

"Oh, no I couldn't!" Cora exclaimed, turning to face Robert.

"But you do like it, don't you?" he asked, secretly hoping she did.

Her cheeks turned pink and she nodded shyly. "I'm afraid I do. But it's too much, Robert. I don't really need it; I have plenty of necklaces back home."

He leaned over so he could whisper in her ear, "This will be special, though. It'll be my first gift to you."

She looked up at him then, seeing how wide his smile stretched that she hated turning him down. It was a lovely gesture, but it was too much, especially when she didn't have an engagement ring yet. "It melts my heart that you want to give it to me, but I can't let you turn out your pockets for it. I'd rather have _you_ than that necklace, as beautiful as it is."

Robert reached up to touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers, amazed by how selfless she was. Any other woman might have demanded such an extravagant gift, but not Cora. He was far more important to her, he realized, than any piece of jewelry or expensive clothing money could buy. "If that's how you feel. Perhaps another time then," he said, unfastening the necklace and handing it back to the salesman.

"Thank you, Robert," Cora said as they left the department store a few minutes later.

"I understand. But I'd very much like to give you something."

She reached for his hand. "I told you, I don't need anything but you . . . What is it? Why are you laughing?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It just amazes me that a young woman such as yourself, who hails from a wealthy family, would turn down a gift such as a diamond necklace."

Cora stopped, causing Robert to halt as well. "So, what? You think just because my family is wealthy I'd be a stuck-up snob like your mother?"

Robert was taken back by the sharpness of her comment. "Don't be ridiculous, Cora! You're an American, you're nothing like my mother."

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. "Is that all I am to you? _The American_?"

"Darling, no, of course not."

"Then why me?!" she nearly shouted, drawing some curious looks from those that passed them by along the street. "Out of all the English girls at your disposal, you chose me. Why?"

Robert, now wary of those giving them strange glances, held up a palm to try and calm her down. "Cora, let's not make a scene—"

"I'm not making a scene. I just want to know why."

He dropped his raised arm in exasperation. "I love you, that's why."

"But that still doesn't explain why you chose me."

"Dammit, Cora!" he shouted, gaining even more attention from gawping onlookers. "I chose you because you're different!" Sighing, he took hold of her elbow and guided her off to the side of the footpath, softening his voice, "I took one look at you in that ballroom and I could have sworn I felt my heart stop." A hint of a smile reflected back at him. "I can't explain it. I just knew—then and there—that you were the one for me." He leaned closer, feeling tempted to just take her into his arms. "And I still do."

"Oh, Robert," Cora managed to get out, "I'm sorry. I overreacted when I shouldn't have, I just . . . I'm tired of being seen as the classless American looking for a rich husband. It's true my mother wants me to have a title, but I couldn't care less about that. Money means nothing to me . . ."

Robert swallowed hard, the guilt of keeping his family's financial crisis a secret still left a bad taste in his mouth whenever he thought of it. He had to tell her, and soon, before the papers got any wind of it. But he didn't want to spoil what was left of their day together. _Before the end of the season_ , he decided, _I'll tell her_. "I know, sweetheart, and that's one of the things I love most about you." She smiled weakly and he reached over to touch her cheek with the back of his fingers. "You know I'd very much like to forget the terrible things I said to you. I just wanted today to be perfect . . ."

Cora took hold of his hand. "Darling, it has been perfect. Including last night, I can't remember the last time I had such fun."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course I do."

He let out a dramatic breath. "Good. I just have something I'd like to ask of you."

"Anything."

"Are you peckish at all? Because I'm starving."

Cora laughed. "You know, I was expecting that to be much more romantic," she said. "But yes, I think I could do with a little something."

"Then it's settled. And after a quiet lunch I'm going to take you on a private boat tour down the Thames, as long as it doesn't rain. How does that sound?" Her smile stretched to her ears this time, making his heart leap in his chest.

"I think that sounds absolutely marvelous."

He took her into his arms then, feeling like such a cad for his earlier comment that led to her distress. He had to keep reminding himself that they were still getting to know each other. It was going to be an uphill battle with his parents, but Robert knew for certain, whether they approved or not, that he was going to marry her.

After a leisurely lunch at a little corner café not far from St. James's Park on York Street, Robert and Cora walked across Westminster Bridge, where a carriage took them down Lamberth Marth to Black Friars Road. There they crossed the Thames once more over Blackfriars Bridge to a small dockyard on the corner of New Street.

"Robert, is that the cathedral?" Cora asked, pointing to where she could see its tallest point peeking above the many trees and buildings surrounding it.

Robert turned to look where she was pointing. "Yes. That's St. Paul's Cathedral. And if you look hard enough, about a mile down the river, you can see the top of The Tower of London."

"Oh, I see it!" she exclaimed. "Just barely, but I see it!"

Robert chuckled at her excitement. "There's still plenty of London to see, darling, don't worry. Now, why don't you get in first?" he suggested, gesturing to the wooden rowboat tied to the dock.

Cora furrowed her brow at the small boat before her, just big enough for two it looked like. "Are you sure this is safe?" she asked, hesitant to step over lest it should tip and capsize on her.

"Of course it is," he said, chuckling once more at her trepidation. "Though it certainly doesn't have the size or luxury of the many steamships I'm sure you're used to, I guarantee you it is quite safe. I'll be with you the entire time. Here? Let me help you." He took hold of her right arm and hand while Cora lifted the ends of her dress with the other and carefully stepped down from the edge of the wooden dock to the boat. "There we are."

He began to step into the boat himself when Cora let out a piercing shriek. "Robert! Stop! You're tipping it!" she shouted at him, gripping the side with such force her knuckles began to turn white.

After settling himself across from her, the boat ceased it's back and forth movement enough to calm her. "Is that better?"

She nodded, still keeping a firm grip on the lip of the boat. Robert untied the rope that kept the boat from drifting away and picked up the two oars.

"Will you be rowing this all by yourself?" Cora asked, watching as he slowly propelled them away from the dock.

"There's a second pair if you'd like to join in," he said, nodding towards the side where the other pair of oars were tied.

"I think I'll let you get us started first."

Robert laughed as he steered them out near the center of the river.

"What are you doing?!" she questioned, her voice turning slightly panicked when he pulled in the oars to unbutton his suit, letting them drift aimlessly.

"Darling, you're completely safe. I'm just going to take off my suit so I'm more comfortable." He untangled his arms from the piece of clothing then folded it over the wooden bench next to him before rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, deciding to keep his tie and waistcoat on for the time being. Resuming his previous position with the oars, Robert began steering them back near the shore so they were out of the way of larger boats and barges.

Cora took off her sun hat, placing it in her lap, and watched as Robert expertly turned the two oars back and forth in a circular motion. "I didn't know you could row so well," she said, transfixed by the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps flexed and twisted with every stroke.

"I was on the rowing team at Eton and Oxford. Of course it's much easier in a bigger boat with a team than it is by yourself."

"Well you're very good at it."

Robert smiled at her.

"It turned out to be a lovely day," she continued, glancing around at the swaying foliage that lined the edge of the river and its walkways.

"Indeed," he said, looking up at the still cloudy sky. "I just hope we don't get caught out here in the rain."

A comfortable silence ensued as they slowly made their way down the river towards the Tower Bridge, which was about a mile up ahead from where they started. Birds of all sizes and color chirped and sang as they flew overhead. A rather brave seagull swooped down and perched itself on the lip of the boat nearest to Robert.

"I think we've picked up an extra passenger," he said, still rowing with an energetic ease.

Cora put a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh, not wanting to scare it off just yet. "I think he likes you," she pointed out, watching as the white bird wobbled closer to Robert.

"He better not get too comfortable." And with a wave of his left hand, the seagull let out a shrieking squawk and flew off to the stone walling that lined the edge of the water.

Silence fell between them once more and Cora thought now was as good a time as any to ask him where he'd been all morning. "Robert?"

He looked up at her, having been focused on his rowing mechanics. "Yes, darling?"

"Why were you at White's?"

He furrowed his brow. "How did—"

"The letter you sent this morning was written on the stationary from there."

Air hissed from his nose. "It's my father's club. I stayed there overnight."

"I see."

Robert sighed. "I had a disagreement with my mother yesterday before we went to dinner. I didn't want to go back home and face her after what transpired between us."

"What happened?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing to bother you with," he said, not wanting her to know the awful things his mother said about her.

She looked away from him, feeling slightly hurt that he couldn't confide in her. He must have noticed for she realized that he'd stopped rowing, the boat now rocking from side to side with the gentle waves larger boats left in their wake.

"Darling, I can't tell you what happened between my mother and I because it's . . . She said some unkind things about you, well about us, and I don't want to see you hurt from it."

"What sort of things?"

Robert bit down on his lip. "Just that she doesn't believe you and I are a good match, that's all. I said some unkind words in response. But I couldn't let her berate you the way she did and I just lost my temper with her."

Her gaze drifted back down to her hands, where she nervously began picking at the side of a nail. "She doesn't like me, does she?"

He leaned over, causing the boat to sway with the shifted weight, and took hold of her hands. "Darling, look at me." Her eyes flicked up at him. "My mother is a very hard woman to please. Sometimes I don't know how my father does it." That drew a weak chuckle from her. "But the more she gets to know you, like I have, I think the more accepting she'll be of you." He reached over to cup her chin, letting his thumb follow the curve of her jaw. "Oh, darling, you have so many wonderful and beautiful qualities about you."

She gripped his other hand tight. "Like what?"

"Well, I love hearing you laugh; it's one of the sweetest sounds I've ever heard. And your smile just melts my heart every time I see it." His thumb began rubbing a circular pattern over the back of her hand. "You're kind and generous, so unlike many of the other women I've met."

Cora had to look away again, now being reminded that she wasn't his only option.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, perplexed that she pulled away from him.

"I wanted to believe that my mother was wrong."

"Your mother?"

She let out an exasperated breath. "The other woman, Robert. Emily . . . I can't remember her surname, but you were seen dining with her at a tearoom here in London. I thought the papers were just printing harmless gossip, but my mother was right." Her gaze turned thunderous as she stared back at him. "You are just an arrogant philanderer with a handsome face and a title!"

Robert set his jaw, ready to defend himself when a barge came into view behind Cora, coming in fast it seemed, on its way inland from the West India Docks. "Cora," he said, trying to get her attention, but she was still agitated, not hearing the clanging of the bell alerting them to the larger ship's presence. "Cora!"

The ship was getting closer and Robert was worried the strong waves it was bound to generate could throw her over the side of the unsteady rowboat. "Cora!" he shouted once more, leaning over quickly to gather her in his arms as the ringing of the bell grew louder and louder. She pushed against his chest, trying to get free, but he held her tight. "There's a barge heading up river! Hold on!"

She finally understood and turned her head just in time to see a long ship with a flattened hull holding hundreds of crates and barrels that were secured by rigging attached all along the deck. The clanging of a captain's bell now echoed through her ears, deafening her thoughts. She turned her head into his neck while her fingers gripped the material of his waistcoat, holding on to him tight as the larger vessel passed them by, leaving behind a heavy wake that caused the rowboat to rapidly rise and fall with every wave.

"Is it gone?" Cora asked, no longer hearing the bell that had been ringing through her ears just moments before.

Robert smoothed a hand over the back of her head, slightly mussing her styled hair. "It's passed us by now."

She pulled her head from the crook of his neck and just stared at him, her eyes still wide with fear. Then she threw herself against him, crying out, "Oh, Robert!"

He held her tightly as he did before, gently rocking her as if she were a small child. "It's all right," he whispered, placing a series of kisses against her cheek and temple. "It's all right. We're safe now."

They held each other in silence for a few minutes until Robert asked, "Now what is this business of you thinking I'm a philanderer?"

She pulled away from him again, swiping at an errant tear that had escaped amidst her hysteria. "There was an article in _The_ _Times_ that my mother showed me this morning. It said you dined with a woman at a tearoom in London, and then there was the mention of you and I at the Criterion last night. But when you said how kind I was amongst all the women you've met I couldn't help but think what that article said was true; that you're considering _many_ options for your future bride."

He entwined their fingers together. "I only have one," he said, staring deeply into her eyes. "You are the one I want to be with, Cora—only you." He held her hand up to the side of his face. "For forever."

Feeling her heart beating twice as fast, Cora couldn't help but fall at the spell he seemed to have cast over her since the night they first met. It might not be a formal proposal, but his heartfelt words were certainly more than she expected. "For forever," she echoed, nearly bursting into tears when he kissed the center of her palm.

"Darling—"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Kiss me."

Grinning, Robert leaned over to comply with her demand. He kept it short but meaningful, breaking away after a few seconds then pulling her into his arms.

Cora reached around and settled her hands on his back, burying her nose in the hair behind his ear. "I should have trusted you. And I'm sorry I called you a philanderer; I didn't mean it. I was upset and—"

"Shh," he quieted her, still holding her tight. "Don't apologize to me. I should have told you about Emily last night, but I enjoyed every minute we spent together that I never gave her a second thought." He pulled back so he could look at her. "Emily Strousse is the woman you read about in the paper," he explained. "We met in the park while you and your mother were away in Berkshire, not knowing that our parents planned a dinner party for us to formally meet at. She, I mean, Emily, understands how I feel about you." He looked away from her for a moment. "She's a friend that I hope to keep for a very long time."

"And you should, Robert. You're allowed to have friends just like anybody else. Don't let me stand in your way."

"Of course not. I'd rather have you beside me instead."

"So would I."

He chuckled and they embraced once more before settling back into their respective seats in the boat.

"Would you like to try rowing?" Robert asked, just as he began to adjust his pair of oars back into position. She looked hesitant to try, but he was more than willing to help her learn.

"I don't think I'd be very good at it."

"You don't have to be good at it. Here. I'll set the oars into position and then demonstrate the motion." He carefully stood up and placed the extra paddles in their respective oarlocks. "Now with both hands turn the oars out and away from you in a circular motion," he said, kneeling behind her.

With his hands on top of hers, Cora let Robert guide her through the motion a few times. They drifted forward little by little until he let her try it on her own. "I don't think I can do this," she said, struggling with the mechanics of using two arms at the same time.

"Here. Like this." Still kneeling behind her, he leaned over again to place his hands atop hers. He showed her the motion once more then let go, moving his hands down to her hips. "There you go! I think you've got it!"

She turned her head to look at him, smiling as if she just scaled the tallest mountain. "Only because you're a wonderful teacher."

He angled his head to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, darling, but I can't take all the credit. You're rather wonderful yourself." He kissed the shell of her ear, nuzzling his nose against her hair. "Beautiful in fact."

"Robert . . ." She giggled as his nose tickled the skin behind her ear.

"Hmm?"

"If you keep distracting me like that I'm afraid we'll both end up in the river. I don't know how to steer us."

Pulling his attention away from Cora, Robert noticed they were drifting a little too close to the stone walling that lined the edge of the river. "Just pull your oars in and I'll get us back on course." Moving back to his seat behind her, Robert managed to steer them away from the edge towards the center.

"How much farther is the Tower Bridge?" she asked, once they were smoothly on their way again.

Robert straightened his back, trying to see as far as he could down river. "It shouldn't be too much further. I can see The Tower, so maybe a quarter of a mile to go?"

They were silenced a moment later with the rumble of thunder, which only grew louder as the impending storm loomed over London.

"Bloody hell," Robert murmured to himself, feeling droplets of rain splattering his nose and cheeks. "I had a feeling this might happen."

"What should we do?!" Cora shouted. Her voice was nearly drowned out by the crackling of more thunder, followed by a flash of lightning.

He looked behind them then back to Cora. "We're too far down river to turn back where we started. There should be a place to tie the boat near the Tower Bridge. Here. Take my jacket, you'll be warmer." He handed her his cream-colored suit, which she immediately held over her head as if it were an umbrella. "Or that, too."

The sprinkling rain soon turned into sheets as the sky above grew darker and darker. Robert, despite being exhausted, continued to row as fast as he could.

"Robert, hurry!" Cora exclaimed as a rather threatening bolt of lightning lit up the sky just off the bank of the river.

"I'm hurrying, darling, I'm hurrying." Though it might have been quicker if she helped row, Robert didn't dare risk saying so out loud.

Eventually the Tower Bridge came into view. Under the grey-blue sky and flashes of lightning, the metal scaffolding that was erected around the bridge for construction looked almost skeleton-like.

Barely able to see through the heavy rain, Robert struggled with steering the boat towards the bank of the river, the blustering winds serving as an extra barrier.

"Oi! Need a bit of help there?!"

Both Robert and Cora turned to see a man standing near the bank of the river, calling down to them.

"Please! If you could?!" Robert shouted back, then cursing as the wind pushed them just out of reach of the small dock he was aiming for.

The man up on land scrambled down the slight incline to the dock. "Throw the rope!"

"Cora, can you get the oars while I toss him the rope?" She nodded, and while Cora pulled in the two paddles, Robert heaved over the rope, grunting with the effort.

"Got it!" the man called out. "Brace yourselves!"

And with a mighty tug, the boat turned sharply, causing Robert to lose his balance, accidentally toppling over Cora. "Darling, are you all right?!" he exclaimed, quickly picking himself up to check on her.

"I'm fine, although my hat's seen better days," she replied, holding out her soaking wet sun hat that was now bent at the brim from where he'd partially fallen on it.

"I'm terribly sorry."

"It's alright. It wasn't one of my favorites anyway."

"Oi! Give us a hand 'ere!"

Robert turned to the man who had helped pull them in. He took hold of the rope that was now tied to the metal pole supporting the dock and pulled until the boat came to the edge.

"Ladies first," the man said as he held out a beefy-looking hand.

Cora scrunched up her nose at the sight of the man's attire. _He must be one of the men working on the bridge_ , she discerned, based on the unpleasant odor of sweat and amount of grease that stained his shirt and trousers. "Thank you," she said, reluctantly taking hold of his slippery hand.

Wiping the side of his face with the wet sleeve of his shirt, Robert watched as Cora hopped out of the boat, his suit now draped over her shoulders for warmth. He stepped out after her, frowning as the man who helped them remained standing close to Cora. "Thank you, sir, for all your help," Robert said, holding out his right hand while the other slid around Cora's waist.

"Of course," the man replied, shaking Robert's hand. "What with nasty weather like this it was a good thing I saw the two of ya from the bridge. The name's Ed, by the way."

"I'm Robert, and this is Cora, my . . ."

"Wife," she supplied, smiling up at Robert, who cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"A pleasure to meet you both," Ed said. He ran a hand over his thick black beard. "But I think we should get you two somewhere dry."

After what seemed like a lengthy walk in the rain down several side streets and narrow passageways, Robert and Cora followed Ed into a low-scale pub that looked as if it wanted to remain hidden from the world.

"Oi, Jonesy!" Ed called out to the bartender. "You got a room available?"

"Third floor!" the bartender replied.

"My pal Jonesy will take care of ya." Ed pointed to the skinny man behind the bar cleaning glasses. He patted Robert hard on the back then stomped off to a table in the back corner, earning shouts and cheers with his arrival.

"Robert, are you sure about this?" Cora whispered, feeling uncomfortable at being the only woman in the establishment.

"Not in the slightest," he replied, watching in disgust as a man at the bar guzzled down a pint of beer so fast it made Robert feel sick to his stomach. _Dear God_ , he thought to himself, now seeing first hand how the other half lived. "It'll be just until the storm ends." He flexed his right hand, feeling the sore muscles in his forearm tighten. "Golly, I need a drink."

"But, Robert . . ." Cora tried to interject, but he was already making his way towards the bar. With a heavy sigh, she followed after him.

"Whisky—no water," Robert said to the bartender, who nodded and turned to fill his order.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Cora whispered to him.

"Darling, relax." He picked up his glass of whisky and took a large drink. "Have something to drink to warm you up."

"What'll it be, miss?" the bartender asked.

"A cup of tea—two sugars."

Robert turned to face her with an incredulous look. " _Tea_? At a pub?"

She shrugged in response. "You said something to warm me up."

"Have a brandy." He looked at the bartender. "She'll have a brandy."

The bartender nodded and strode off before Cora could correct him.

"Robert, I don't really drink . . ."

"One glass won't kill you, Cora."

"I know, but . . ."

"What?"

She sighed. "I just want to go home. We're cold and wet and this pub smells as if it hasn't been properly cleaned in fifty years."

Ignoring her comment, he held up the glass of brandy the bartender set down in front of her. "Here. Drink this; it'll loosen you up a bit."

Reluctantly, Cora took the glass and brought it up to her lips, smelling it first before taking a small sip. It burned her throat on the way down, causing her to cough. But after the sharpness of the alcohol wore off a pleasant warmth seemed to bubble in her stomach. She took another drink, now knowing what to expect, and hummed in contentment.

After a few drinks later, with the storm still in full force outside, Robert and Cora meandered up to an empty room on the third floor. They were both still fairly sober, Cora more so than Robert as he fumbled with trying to unlock the door with the tiny key.

"It certainly isn't The Langham," Robert said, looking around once he finally managed to open the door, "but it'll have to do for the time being."

The room was rather sparse, consisting of a run-down, four-poster double wide bed, a small wardrobe, and a table with a white metal basin for bathing, pitcher, set of towels, and a chair. A small fireplace was set in the wall just to the left of the bed.

"Might as well get out of these wet clothes," Robert suggested as he undid the knot of his emerald tie.

Cora spun around to look at him. "Are you mad?!"

He thought for a moment, biting his lip as he fought the urge to laugh. "No, I think I'm still fairly sane."

"Honestly, Robert, do you really expect me to strip out of my clothes right here in front of you? The only privacy one would get in this room is probably the wardrobe." She gestured across the room to the piece of furniture that looked as if it had been taken apart and put back together several times.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I'd rather go home."

He stepped closer to her and settled his hands on her hips. "Sweetheart . . . I know it's not ideal, but would you rather be outside in that storm or safe and dry in here?"

She sighed, knowing he was right. "If I have to be stuck here, then I'm glad it's with you."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her. "Why don't I start the fire first? Then I'll step out of the room while you get out of your clothes."

"You can start the fire, but I'll need help with my dress and corset."

Though the room wasn't very warm, Robert felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Right." He had to clear his throat at the mental images his mind conjured up.

After finding a matchbox in the drawer of the bedside table, Robert successfully had a fire going. In a matter of minutes the temperature in the room began to rise and Robert could feel beads of sweat forming at his temples. Undoing the buttons at the back of her dress, he watched as she pulled it down and then stepped out of it, leaving her in only her corset and underthings.

Not hearing any movement, Cora turned her head to look at him. "Are you all right, Robert?"

Realizing that he was staring, Robert focused his attention on the many ties holding her corset together. Once he removed the thick shell of a garment, he couldn't help but stare at the many lines and indents that marked the skin of her back. "I'll let you, um, finish with the rest," he said, turning and heading for the door.

Hearing it click shut, Cora took out the pins holding up her hair and quickly removed her underthings, then spread them out along the mantle of the fireplace, having no choice but to lay her dress on the floor in front of the hearth. Then she climbed into the bed under the sheets, which weren't as soft as she was used to, nor as clean by the look of them.

Robert waited outside the room for several minutes until he turned and knocked on the door. "Cora?" He heard a muffled response and took that as his cue to enter. He glanced around the room, finding that she was wrapped in the white sheets of the bed, facing the fireplace.

"No peeking," he said as he turned around and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

She smiled as she stared at the glowing flames of the fire. But she had to catch her breath a minute later when he walked into her view near the fireplace. Her gaze followed the curve of his lower legs up to his back, grateful he decided to leave his undershorts on. She was transfixed by the movement of the many muscles in his upper back and arms as he placed his wet clothing next to hers on the mantle and floor. She closed her eyes just as he turned to walk around to the other side of the bed.

"You peeked, didn't you?" she heard him say, feeling the mattress shift with his added weight.

Turning onto her other side to face him, Cora grinned. "I may have caught just a tiny glimpse." She pulled the sheet up higher when she noticed his gaze drop to her chest. "What time is it?"

He reached behind him for his pocket watch on the bedside table. "Almost half past five," he read, turning back on his side to face her.

Cora let out a tired sigh. "I rather hoped I would have been home by now. My mother's probably expecting me for dinner, but it doesn't sound like we'll be leaving here any time soon." They listened for a moment as a rumble of thunder shook the glass panes of the only window.

"I'm sorry, darling. I should have abandoned my plan for a boat ride as soon as I realized how dark the sky was getting."

"It's not your fault."

He looked away from her in embarrassment. "I know. But something serious could have happened . . ."

"Nothing did," she assured him. "We're both fine, aren't we?"

Robert smiled, thinking how lucky he was. "You're so beautiful," he said, reaching over to caress her cheek with the back of his fingers.

She took hold of his other hand. "Thank you, Robert, for another divine day, despite the weather."

He entwined their fingers together. "You don't have to thank me. Since we met, you've made my life so much brighter."

"Have I really?"

"Mm." He rolled onto his back and let out a long yawn, closing his eyes. "I'm so tired, sweetheart."

Seeing that he was drifting off to sleep, Cora gently shook his arm. "Robert, we are _not_ spending the night here."

"Only for a little while," he mumbled, his head lolling back into the pillow. "I feel so tired . . ."

With another defeated sigh, Cora reclined back against the feather pillow, listening as the patter of rain ticked against the glass of the single window, drowning out the sound of Robert's steady breathing. It might not have been the first time they'd slept together in a bed, but to Cora it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She could almost believe that they were husband and wife. Given their current situation, a small part of her worried he could have taken advantage of her, but Robert was nothing less than a gentleman.

Gazing at him now, fast asleep from a few glasses of whisky and physical exhaustion, he looked younger than his twenty-two years suggested. His face, devoid of any lines or wrinkles, seemed boyish to Cora, and she could almost picture what he must have looked like as a little boy.

Shifting closer to him, Cora leaned over to rest her head in the crook of his neck. With her right arm wrapped around his bare torso, she felt loved and protected in the warmth of their embrace.

"Only for a little while," she murmured, feeling her eyelids growing heavy and her muscles relaxing.

For the time being they were safe from the pressures society often handed them, hidden away in a little pub that was far from the world of elegance and glamour.

* * *

 _Author's Notes:_

 _[1] The_ _SS City of New York was a British passenger liner, which was eventually sold to the U.S. in 1893. It didn't take its maiden voyage across the Atlantic until August of 1888, but for the sake of the story I'm putting it in commission a month early (hope you don't mind)._

 _[2]_ _The Cincinnati Red Stockings, not to be confused with the Boston Red Sox (who at the time were known as the Boston Beaneaters), are a professional baseball team, now named the Cincinnati Reds. The win-loss record (42-26) mentioned in Mr. Levinson's letter is correct, and they did end up losing the pennant to St. Louis that year (1888). Outside fanfiction I'm a total baseball nerd, so it was really interesting to see actual statistics from games played over a hundred years ago (thanks Google). Plus I'd like to believe that Cora's father had an interest in baseball, since it was one of the first professionally played sports in the U.S. at that time._

 _[3] Harold does end up getting his money with his bet on the Giants, who won the championship in 1888, the equivalent today of the World Series. The New York Giants (not the American football team) were originally founded as the New York Gothams in 1883 but then renamed to the Giants in 1886, and eventually moved to San Francisco in 1958._

 _[4] I don't really know any old fashioned American phrases/slogans, but the one I found online seemed to fit with that portion of the dialogue. And we all know how Robert isn't "very good with those American slogans"._

 _[5] The department store scene might have been the hardest to write in this chapter. Lord and Taylor was actually the first luxury department store in North America, opening in New York City in 1826. I decided to go with a department store in this chapter instead of a small shop or boutique because I wanted Robert to show Cora something that might have reminded her of home at that time. And it was probably Robert's first time in a department store, so it's a bit of a culture shock for him as well, having not yet been to America._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I'm glad to be back in the Downton fandom. Apologies for being absent for a while, but I like to make sure each chapter I write is as perfect as I can make it. I originally wanted to post this a couple Sundays ago but fell a little bit behind when finishing the ending for this chapter. I can't believe it's been a year since I first posted this story! I wish I had been able to write more during that time, but unfortunately real life tends to get in the way. But on the bright side I have a ton of ideas to add to this story, as well as a continuation/sequel (i.e. Robert, Cora, and their three daughters as children, as well as an extra surprise addition, centered around several historical events (I'm already excited, I can't wait to write it))! So I hope you enjoy this chapter, there's plenty of drama and romance and fluffy dialogue, even a little bit of action, and if you do, don't hesitate to leave a comment or favorite/follow, it makes my day either way. Thank you again for those of you that keep leaving feedback, it's a major confidence booster on my part as a writer. Happy holidays!**

* * *

Chapter Nine

It was early and still dark outside when Robert suddenly woke up. Reaching over to the bedside table, he groped around in the semi-darkness for his pocket watch. Just barely able to make out that it was after four in the morning, he set the watch back down and let out a long breath. As he settled back against his pillow, he remembered that he wasn't alone. Turning his head to the right, he found Cora lying next to him on her side, her bare back exposed to his view, partially covered by the mane of dark hair that fell over her shoulder. The white sheet just barely covered her hip, and when he pulled it up to take a look, he swallowed hard at finding that she was completely naked underneath. But then he recalled how they had been caught in the rain and that they'd both discarded their damp and soggy clothing in a rundown room of a pub, leaving them to dry over the mantle of the fireplace.

She was still fast asleep and while Robert watched her for a few minutes, he began to wonder if something had occurred between them in the middle of the night. He reached up to rub his forehead, which was beginning to ache, not quite sure how much he had to drink before nodding off the previous night. Just as he thought about getting up, Cora rolled over in her sleep, her arm accidentally brushing his bare side in the process. With her naked form in such proximity to him, he could feel the lower half of himself responding to her closeness. He cursed under his breath, feeling rather embarrassed. Wondering how to best sort himself out, Robert shifted as far as he could to the edge of the mattress, turning his back to her. He then closed his eyes, trying to think of something besides Cora in order to ease the ache he could feel building in his groin, resisting the urge to reach under the sheet to take care of it himself.

After what seemed like an eternity, Robert finally felt relief. He let out a long breath then quietly eased himself out of bed. Making his way around to the fireplace, he cried out as a sharp, severe pain coursed through the underside of his bare foot. "God dammit!" he cursed, loud enough that his shout woke Cora.

"Robert?!" she exclaimed as she sat up in the bed, holding the sheet with one hand to cover her chest. "Whatever's the matter!" She almost wanted to laugh at the sight of him limping around in a circle in only his undershorts, but held it back, noticing that he was wincing in pain.

He turned to fully face her. "I think I've got a sliver from that blasted floor," he said, grimacing through clenched teeth as he pointed down at the rough, uneven floor boards.

"Let me see."

Robert hesitated at first but then complied with her command, hopping over to the edge of the bed. He dropped down heavily beside her then lifted his right leg up.

Cora took hold of his right foot and he immediately pulled it back. "Robert," she said, "how am I supposed to see if you've got a sliver if you won't let me look?" She then realized that the sheet was no longer covering her chest. "Look away!" She reached over and turned his head away from her, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Mm, sorry," he said, clearing his throat as he centered his gaze on the closed door of the room.

She picked his foot back up again, trying to see in what little light there was. "I can't really see anything."

"Well there's definitely something in there," Robert protested. "Because it hurts like hell."

She looked harder. "Just be still—aha! I see it!"

"Well can you get it out?" he asked, still keeping his gaze away from her.

"If I had the proper tools, possibly."

He thought for a moment. "What about those, um . . ." He snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the appropriate noun. "Those pins you keep in your hair? Won't one of those work?"

"Maybe." Slipping out of the bed behind him, Cora went to retrieve one of her hairpins she had set on the mantle of the fireplace. Returning back to the bed, she picked up his foot and began feeling around for the specific spot.

"Ow! Careful!" he called out when she accidentally pinched his skin.

Cora rolled her eyes at his exaggeration. "Be still then."

"I am being still. You're just being cruel."

Finding the sliver again, she narrowed her eyes at him and jammed the pin into his skin, causing him to cry out. "Hold still for just a second . . . and . . . got it!"

"For heaven's sake, woman!" Robert exclaimed, pulling his foot away.

Cora continued to smile at him, holding up the pin that contained the sliver of wood that had been embedded in his foot. "Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

He rubbed the underside of his foot, feeling the pain begin to abate. "Next time I think I'll do it myself."

She reached over and cupped his chin. "Let's just hope there isn't a next time."

He smiled weakly, not taking notice that her upper half was completely exposed to him again. He was lost in her shimmering blue eyes, which glowed slightly with the dying flames coming from the fireplace, wondering how he'd been able to control himself with her next to him all night. Leaning over, Robert kissed her soundly on the lips. "Thank you," he said, pulling back slightly so he could take in a breath.

"You're welcome," Cora replied, her voice soft and quiet. Looking at him now, she felt that there was some force pulling her to him. As much as she enjoyed the physical affection they shared with each other, she wanted something more than just harmless, sensual kisses. And gazing into his eyes, she could see that he was yearning for it as well. "Robert . . ." she breathed out, her eyes dropping down to look at his lips.

"Yes, darling?"

Instead of a response, Cora wound one of her arms around his neck and covered his mouth with her own. She fell back against the pillows, pulling him along with her.

Feeling surprised, Robert pulled away, moving so he wasn't completely lying on top of her. "Cora, I don't think—"

She placed a finger against his lips, silencing him. "Shh. I want to."

He shook his head. "Oh, darling, you don't know how much I've wanted this." She smiled back at him. "But I don't think it's the right time."

"Robert, I love you—"

"I know, sweetheart. I just don't want you to regret your decision."

She let her fingers comb through the hair at the back of his head, now tousled from sleep and their passionate kiss. "I won't regret it."

He closed his eyes briefly before smiling down at her. "But I will."

Her grin faded. "What do you mean?"

"I want us to be together before I show you how much I love you."

"But we are together. I don't understand . . ."

"What I meant was that I want us to be truly committed to one another. Things are still so uncertain between us. What with my parents and the—" He stopped himself short, almost letting his secret about the estate slip out.

Cora furrowed her brow. "And what?"

"Nothing. I . . . I want us to be sure before we progress any further. I mean, what if you . . ." Again, Robert stopped himself short, feeling awkward about saying the proper words out loud.

But she seemed to understand him. "You mean if I fall pregnant?"

He had to look away from her, feeling his cheeks turning red. "Yes."

"I admit that does scare me, but it would be a blessing, wouldn't it?"

He turned his head back to face her and smiled slightly. "I suppose it would. But I just don't think I'm ready for that yet."

She ran the fingers of her left hand over his cheek and jaw. "I understand, Robert. And truthfully, I don't believe I'm ready for it either. Someday, of course."

His smile widened as he pictured her as a mother. "You'd be lovely at it."

She sat up and hugged him, their bare chests pressed against each other. "I'm sorry I nearly pressured you into . . . you know."

He tightened their embrace, placing a gentle kiss to her temple. "Its all right. I want to take our courtship slow. I want to be able to savor it." He pulled back so he could touch her cheek, letting the knuckles of his right hand brush over her skin. "I don't want to lose you, that's why I've never tried . . ." Again, Robert couldn't say the exact words, finding it almost vulgar to even think about it.

"I understand." She smiled at him once more. "I rather like your idea of taking things slow."

"Good. I'm glad."

Averting her gaze, Cora ran a finger down the center of his chest and stomach, surprised by the firmness she felt beneath her fingertip. "I ought to mention it to you, but my father's coming over for a visit from New York."

Robert swallowed hard, feeling a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting her father. "Really? When?"

"He mentioned in his last letter that he'd be arriving in London sometime on the thirtieth—so this weekend I believe."

He shifted himself into a more comfortable position, still facing her. "I'd like to meet him if I can?"

"Of course you will. My mother's already informed him of our courtship."

"I see." He looked away.

"Robert? There's nothing to worry about. He's going to love you."

Again, he began thinking about his family's financial situation. He couldn't let Cora's father find out, especially now that he knew that the Levinsons were rather wealthy. It had to come from him first. "I hope so. Even if he doesn't, I'll fight for you." Taking hold of her hand, Robert leaned over and kissed her fingers. "I love you so very much, darling."

Cora could feel her eyes watering. "Oh, Robert."

"I can't bear to be without you. I hope you know that by now."

"I do, darling, I do!" she exclaimed, leaning over to embrace him once more. "And I don't think I could bear to part from you either."

Robert closed his eyes, resting his head against hers, feeling as if everything was just as it should be. "Did you sleep well?" he asked after a moment, still holding her against him. "I know this place wasn't what either of us had envisioned, considering our situation."

Cora pulled back so she could look at him. "I did rather, though I think I heard you snoring a time or two." She started to chuckle at his astonished expression.

"I do not _snore_ ," he insisted, feigning a hurt look.

"Robert . . ." He still seemed dejected. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Robert shook his head as he returned his gaze to her. "I know you didn't. It's just the fact that you think I snore makes me feel old."

Cora rolled her eyes. "You're far from _old_ , Robert. And I don't _think_ you snore, I _know_ you do. I heard you myself."

A smile finally appeared as a rumbling laugh escaped his lips. "Only you can make me laugh this way."

She smiled back, then let out a long yawn. "My, what time is it?"

"After four."

"In the morning?"

"Yes."

Cora yawned again. "I don't suppose there'll be an early breakfast waiting for us downstairs."

Robert chuckled. "Based on the comforts of this room, I wouldn't think so."

Cora smiled along with him. "I don't know . . ." She let her finger trail over the firm muscle of his left pectoral. "I found the room to be rather cozy . . . and warm."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you now?"

"Mmhmm." Her gaze now followed her finger, which was tracing the curve of his side. "I seem to sleep very well when you're next to me."

"Despite my alleged snoring?"

She looked up at him, her smile now growing wider. "Yes. Despite your _horrid_ snoring I slept wonderfully."

He angled his head to kiss her cheek. "That's all that matters anyway."

Cora reached up and combed her fingers through the hair at his temple. "I wish it could always be this way."

Robert furrowed his brow, but took comfort in the way her nails seemed to lightly scrape and massage his scalp. "How do you mean?"

Her gaze drifted down to the sheets pooled at their waists. "I so enjoy spending time with you," she said, looking back up at him. "Just the two of us. I hate having to worry what my mother will think or what the servants gossip about." She took hold of one of his hands. "Being with you in this way gives me a sense of freedom I haven't had since I was a little girl. Ever since I came to England I've been groomed into something I'm not." Her smile reappeared. "But then I met you . . ."

"Oh, Cora," he said, moving both hands to cup her cheeks. "I feel so lucky, you know." The lump that had formed in his throat caused a hitch in his breathing. "Because falling in love with you . . . I just can't imagine spending the rest of my life with someone else."

Tears now gathered at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. "Robert, have you just . . . ?"

"Not formally, no. But I mean to—when the time's right. Of course I'll need to get on your father's good side."

They both chuckled at that, but Cora could see in his eyes how apprehensive he looked. She reached up and covered one of his hands that was still cupping her cheek. "Like I said before, you have nothing to worry about where my father's concerned. You're a good man, Robert Crawley. He'll see that."

But Robert had to look away, knowing how deceitful it was to keep his family's financial ruin a secret. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course."

Smiling once more, Robert dropped his hands from her face to settle them at her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips against hers, increasing the pressure when he felt her respond to his kiss. "I mean to make you happy," he said, pulling back slightly so he could rest his forehead against hers.

"I know. And you do make me happy, Robert—more than I could have imagined."

He let out a relieved breath and closed his eyes, giving silent thanks for the woman who meant everything to him. "It's still rather dark out," he commented, taking a brief glance at the window where the thin and tattered curtain was still drawn.

"What are you suggesting?"

Robert shook his head. "Nothing really. I just thought that since it was still early you might like to, um . . ." He cleared his throat. "You know, stay in bed until the sun comes up?"

Raising an eyebrow, Cora tilted her head to the side. "Are you trying to say that you'd like a cuddle, Lord Downton?" She had to stifle her laugh at how uncomfortable he looked.

Robert, feeling more embarrassed than when he woke up to find her completely naked, threw his hands up in the air. "Yes!" he sputtered. "Yes, I am." But his pained expression soon turned humorous. "Do you have a problem with that, Miss Levinson?"

Cora shook her head. "Not a bit. In fact, if you weren't going to say anything I was going to suggest it myself."

She then let out a giggling laugh when he pulled her into his arms, both of them falling back against the pillows. He lifted the sheet and the thin blanket up over their shoulders. They were still facing each other, smiling until their laughter finally died down.

"I love you," Robert said, his voice soft and tender as he pushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

Cora wrapped her fingers around his wrist, keeping his hand against the side of her face. "I love you, too." She closed her eyes, feeling him kiss the tip of her nose, and sighed in contentment.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they both managed to fall back to sleep, only to be awakened an hour or so later by shouts coming from the street outside. "What the devil?" Robert muttered, sitting up as best he could with Cora's arm still draped across his waist. Thin streams of light filtered through the shabby curtain still covering the single window, making Robert blink as his eyes adjusted to the newly brightened room. As he reached for his pocket watch on the bedside table to check the time, Cora stirred beside him.

"Robert, what is that racket?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her left eye, hearing some kind of commotion from outside.

Robert pulled back the bedsheets and stood up to investigate. He pushed the tattered, pine-colored curtain away from the window. Mildew and years of untouched dirt coated various parts of the glass, making the view down below look hazy and clouded. But what he could see made his heart jump in his chest. Outside, in the narrow street below, which was the very back of the pub, Robert watched as a policeman brutally assaulted and apprehended a large man, who strangely resembled the construction worker that helped them from the river. He heard Cora come up behind him, but he could only stare at the scene below, a sense of fear and danger creeping up his spine.

"Robert, what is it?" Cora repeated, placing a hand on his bare shoulder. He jumped, as if startled from a daydream, and turned around to face her. She was taken back herself when she noticed how dilated his pupils were.

"We need to leave," was all he said as he moved around her to the fireplace to pick up his clothes.

Turning to look at him, keeping the white sheet wrapped around herself, Cora watched as he hurriedly pulled on his trousers. "What? Why?"

"Because it's not safe here." Slipping both arms into his pinstriped shirt, Robert quickly fastened the buttons and pulled up his braces.

"Robert? What's going on?"

"Just get dressed and I'll tell you."

"You'll need to help me with my corset and dress."

He nodded his head vigorously. "Yes, alright." He turned away and began tying his tie to give her some privacy.

Cora narrowed her eyes at Robert's back then began putting on her underthings. She slipped on her corset then turned her head to face him. "I need your help now."

Turning around, Robert laced the strings of her corset together as best he could, finding that his hands were shaking. She must have sensed it because she tilted her head to look at him.

"Are you okay, Robert?"

He forced a smile. "Perfectly fine, darling."

Once he finished with her corset, she stepped into her dry dress, which was still warm from where it had been lying next to the fireplace, and waited for him to fasten the many buttons lining the back. "Now will you tell me what's going on?" she asked, turning to face him once more.

Robert sat down on the edge of the bed and began pulling on his socks. "Remember that curious man who helped us dock the rowboat?"

Cora furrowed her brow, recalling the man who stank heavily of sweat and grease. "Yes. Why?"

"I think he's in trouble with the law. I saw a policeman just outside the window. He looked to be apprehending the man—rather violently it seemed. I don't know for certain if he's dangerous or not." He slipped on his shoes and started tying the laces. "But what I do know is that it isn't safe for us to be here."

Cora shook her head, not quite understanding him. "Why must we leave so suddenly? We don't know that man—"

Robert stood up, and in one leaping stride, placed his hands on her shoulders. "But the entire pub downstairs witnessed us enter with him. Suppose they're questioned about him?"

"But, Robert, we've done nothing wrong. I don't understand—"

"Look at us, Cora!" He didn't mean to shout at her, but his rising blood pressure only fueled his growing anxiety. "Does it look like we belong in this part of the city? Don't you see, we're easy targets. Which is why it's better that we leave as soon as possible."

"Is this about keeping your family's good reputation?"

Robert slipped on his wrinkled suit. "What?"

"It would be scandalous and humiliating for your family if you were seen in a rundown pub with an unmarried woman. Wouldn't it?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

"No . . . Well, yes, but . . ." He shook his head. "This is about our safety, Cora. We aren't exactly in an area I'd call home."

"Then where are we?"

"I don't know exactly. Somewhere in Whitechapel I think." He stuffed his pocket watch in his waistcoat. "We should go. Are you ready?"

Cora swallowed hard but nodded. "Yes."

Seeing that she now looked as nervous as he was, Robert settled his hands on her hips. "I'm sorry about all this. It's my fault we're in this mess." He hung his head, staring down at his muddy and water-stained shoes.

"Darling," she said, softening her voice. He looked up at her, his expression sad and defeated. "Being stranded here was not your fault. The weather was to blame, not you."

"I know. It's just . . . Now I know your mother will never let you be alone with me again. She's probably been worried about you."

"Robert. She'll understand our predicament."

"Will she, though?"

"I don't know. But I'll argue hand and foot if she forbids me from you. I don't want to be apart from you." She reached up and placed her palm against his cheek.

Robert closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, savoring the warmth of her hand. "Neither do I." Angling his head slightly, he leaned over and kissed her, pulling her tight against his chest as if it was the last time they'd ever see each other. "Everything will be all right," he whispered, trying to catch his breath after their passionate embrace.

Cora nodded. "I believe you."

He looked around the room, making sure that nothing would be forgotten. "Do you have everything?"

Placing her bent hat on her head, Cora nodded once more. "Yes."

He too placed his hat atop his head. And after offering her his arm, they both left the room and headed down to the first floor.

Once Robert settled the bill for the room with the bartender, he and Cora stepped out of the pub without a second glance, having no intention of a return visit. Hand in hand they walked down the cobble-stoned street, trying to make it seem as if they knew where they were going.

When they turned onto a crowded street, Cora tightened her grip on Robert's hand. Young children who should have been looked after played aimlessly in the street around them. And judging by how worn their clothes were, Cora discerned she and Robert must have ventured into a poverty-stricken neighborhood. She gasped when she witnessed a little boy, no more than five years old, slip his tiny fingers into the trouser pocket of a man engrossed in conversation with a young woman on the side of the street. He stealthily pulled out the man's wallet and ran.

"Robert," Cora whispered, still gripping his hand tight. "Please tell me you know where you're going." Around them, women wearing secondhand dresses eyed her with envy, while bearded men leered with unsettling glances.

"I wish I could, darling," he said, leaning close to give the impression that they were married. "We shouldn't be too far from where we docked the boat near the Tower Bridge. If only I could see it I'd have a better idea of where we are. Meanwhile, just follow my lead and stay close." He felt her squeeze his hand hard, hoping they wouldn't run into trouble.

After a series of wrong turns down several narrow side streets, Robert finally realized that they had made a circle around several blocks. "God in heaven," he grumbled, feeling frustrated at not being able to find his way. "That's the second time I've seen that same woman." He pointed across the street to the woman who was leaning out a third floor window shaking out rugs. "We've been going in a bloody circle this whole time."

Cora, who was no longer paying Robert much attention, had an eerie feeling that they were being followed. Shuffling footsteps echoed their own, which would occasionally fade whenever she turned her head to look back. But she never saw anyone who looked suspicious. "Something's wrong," she said, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, but also listening intently for the tread of footsteps. Robert stayed silent, though she could hear him muttering to himself under his breath. Then she heard it again: the distinct _clop_ of the sole of a shoe and then the slide of the other across the cement footpath, as if one foot lagged behind that its owner had to drag it to keep up with the other. She feared looking back, afraid of what she might see. "Don't you hear that?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet so only Robert could hear her.

"Hear what?" he said.

"Those footsteps."

They both fell silent so Robert could listen. "I don't hear anything," he insisted.

"I think we're being followed."

Robert flicked his head to the side to look at her, resisting the urge to glance behind them. "What?"

"You might not be able to hear it, but I can tell that something isn't right. I can feel it."

Her grip on his hand tightened and Robert could feel one of the many small bones in his hand crack. He winced in discomfort but otherwise ignored it. "Try not to worry. We should be out of this neighborhood soon enough."

But in the next instant he felt a sharp tug on his right hand, followed by Cora's scream.

"Robert!" she cried, but her voice was quickly muffled by a hand covering her mouth.

Her fingers slipped from his just as he turned to see a tall figure pull Cora into a shaded alleyway just to their right. "Cora!" he called out, racing after her. The figure, which Robert could now make out as a man, dragged Cora about halfway into the narrow passageway before turning and coming to a stop. It wasn't completely dark, but there was enough light that Robert could get a good look at their assailant. He wore a tattered grey cap atop his head and a woolen suit that looked two sizes too small for his tall and lanky form. The ends of his trousers just barely covered his ankles. But it was the face that Robert felt could give anyone nightmares. Two blue eyes gleamed back at him in the shadowed light, except one was clouded over and seemed to droop, as if it didn't know quite where to look. Two jagged scars marked the man's shaven face, one right below the clouded right eye that ran halfway down the center of his cheek, the other, Robert could see, began at the chin and snaked down along his left jaw to his neck. But what frightened him most was the sharp blade he had poised against Cora's throat, just below her chin. His other hand and arm were wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly to his front.

Robert held up a hand, hoping to keep the man somewhat calm. "Don't hurt her—please."

Cora continued to squirm in the man's hold. "Be still!" he growled, increasing the pressure of the blade against her throat.

Robert wanted to scream, but instead looked Cora straight in the eye. "Sweetheart," he began, softening his tone to assure her, "do as he says. I'm right here." She nodded, and he could see the tears running down her cheeks, either from pain or fear he couldn't be sure. Then his gaze shifted to the man. "Please, I beg of you, do not hurt her."

"Empty your pockets," the man said, his voice harsh and raspy.

Immediately, Robert stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, pulling the lining out to reveal that he had nothing in them.

The man's face turned angry. "All of them—now!"

Robert complied with his demand, pulling his wallet out from the inside pocket of his suit. He threw it down near the man's feet, but he didn't move.

"The watch too."

Robert looked down where the gold chain of his pocket watch gleamed against the dark buttons of his waistcoat. "No."

"Robert?!" Cora shouted, annoyed that he was being stubborn over a material possession.

"Be quiet!" the man snarled, shoving one foot forward to stamp the heel of his shoe down on the top of Cora's foot and ankle. She cried out in pain, nearly doubling over, but the man held her tight against him.

"Do not touch her!" Robert cried, taking a step forward.

"Then give me the fucking watch or she dies!"

Robert knew then and there that his decision was made, but he couldn't help but feel reluctant to part with his watch. It was given to him by his paternal grandfather on his thirteenth birthday, the year that he was sent to school at Eton. It was said that the watch had been passed down for over a century, and Robert had even planned to give it to his own son someday, but now it was to be handed over to a common criminal; a man he knew would kill for such a possession. He pulled it from the pocket of his waistcoat and held it up by the chain, its gold finish shining in the light. The man's lips widened into a sickly smile, showing a row of rotting teeth. But it was Cora who he focused on, now leaning heavily on her left leg, tears still flowing down her cheeks. If he had to give up one of his most treasured possessions, it would be for her. He'd even give up Downton, he decided, understanding that love and happiness was far more gratifying than any amount of money one could imagine. But then the man's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Stop your daydreaming and give it 'ere!"

"Ensure me she won't be harmed and you can have it," Robert said, still holding up the pocket watch, its weight now swinging like a metronome, back and forth. That same gruesome smile reappeared and Robert feared that this was all just some cruel game to him.

"Very well. You have my word."

Robert knew he couldn't trust the man, but he had no other choice. He was unarmed. "Bring her to me and you can take it."

The man tilted his head to the side, as if he were calculating all of his options. But it was the shrill sound of a police whistle that made him think twice. In one motion he pushed Cora forwards and snatched the watch from Robert's hand then turned and picked up the wallet that had still been lying on the ground before awkwardly running down the alleyway and disappearing round a corner.

Heavy footsteps rushed past the alley, along with the sound of the policeman's whistle. Not bothering to turn around and look, Robert bent over to help Cora back to her feet. "Darling, are you all right?" he asked, looking her over to make sure there were no visible marks.

Cora couldn't speak. Instead, she shook her head, tears continuing to slide down her cheeks. In an instant he wrapped her in his arms while she buried her face in the crook of his neck. She then felt his fingers tangle in the simple plait she'd put her hair into before they left the pub, holding her against him.

"You're all right," he continued, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "He's gone. I'm right here."

Her voice quivered when she finally spoke, "Robert?"

He could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck. "Yes, my darling?"

"I want to go home."

"I know, sweetheart. If only I knew the bloody direction of the Tower Bridge." He pulled back slightly, loosening his arms from around her. "Are you able to walk?"

Holding onto his outstretched arm, Cora took one step with her right leg and stumbled, crying out in pain as she felt her ankle give way. But Robert caught her before she could hit the ground. "I won't be able to go far with my ankle."

"Then I'll carry you if I have to."

Cora shook her head emphatically. "No, don't. You'll only hurt yourself."

"I don't care," Robert said, now supporting most of her weight with his left arm wrapped around her upper back. "You're in pain and I want to help."

"Robert, it doesn't hurt that much, honestly."

"Nonsense. I'm going to carry you until we can find some help." And without another word he placed his other arm behind her knees and lifted her off the ground. She let out a soft peal of laughter, thinking he'd never do it. But with her arms wrapped loosely about his neck and shoulders, Cora held on to him as he started down the footpath.

They made for an interesting sight to anyone who passed them by. But whenever a tall man locked eyes with her, Cora tightened her hold on Robert, afraid that at any moment she could be taken from him again.

"Don't worry," he said, feeling the muscles surrounding her spine tense under his left hand. "I won't let go."

Even though they were out in public, Cora bent her head forward to kiss his cheek, allowing her lips to linger for a few seconds. "I know."

A comfortable silence ensued between them, except for the boisterous activity surrounding them. But neither seemed to mind the strange looks they received. Robert was determined to get her home, and if that meant exhausting his arms and legs then so be it.

Eventually Robert grew tired, which forced Cora back down on her feet. She leaned against his side, making sure not to put all of her weight on her right ankle. The sun was now high in the sky, and its heat and humidity were beginning to settle over the city like a blanket, trapping it between tall buildings and structures.

"What about that shop over there?" Robert suggested, pointing across the street to a long building where businesses occupied the ground floor and tenement apartments filled in the remaining four stories above.

"What shop?" Cora said, trying to follow his line of sight while squinting against the sun.

Robert pointed again at the specific shop front. "That one over there with the window display."

From their position across the street, Cora could just make out the displays of hats in the shop window he indicated. "Why? Are you thinking about getting a new hat?"

He turned to look at her, not at all amused by her harmless joke. "No. I just thought that we might get some directions, that's all."

"Oh. I see."

Upon entering the shop, a bell that was hung above the door rang out, signaling their presence to the owner.

From a distance, a male voice called out, "I'll be just a few minutes!"

Robert took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair, which was now slightly damp with sweat. The inside of the shop wasn't much cooler than outside, but the strong smell of old clothing and chemicals felt stifling. Looking around Robert could see that the shop mainly consisted of handmade and refurbished hats. He picked up a black bowler hat that had a patched brim and held it up next to his head, not wanting to risk what germs might have been transferred from its original owner. "What do you think?" he said, turning to face Cora with a grim expression.

She almost laughed, but shook her head emphatically. "Maybe if you worked at a bank."

He chuckled and put the hat back where he'd found it.

"Ah, welcome!"

Robert and Cora were greeted by a stout, middle-aged man in a patched brown suit. "How may I be of service?" he continued, fiddling with the pair of glasses that were held on a chain around his neck.

"We've rather lost our way," Robert began to explain, "and we were hoping you might know the directions to the Tower Bridge?"

"Oh, of course, of course!" the man exclaimed.

While the shop owner gave Robert directions, Cora gazed around at the different variety of hats that were on display, all mainly for men it seemed. One of the top hats in particular reminded her of her father. There was so much she longed to tell him of her time in England. Though she loved her mother dearly, Cora always felt that she was more connected to her father. She preferred his quiet, conservative side rather than her mother's off-putting exuberance. Just the thought of seeing him again made her smile. But a moment later she jumped, feeling startled when she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

"Darling?" Robert said, furrowing his brow at her panicked expression.

She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating rapidly beneath it. "Oh, Robert. You startled me."

"I've got the directions. Are you all right?" His brow creased even further. "You look a bit pale."

Cora shook her head. "I'm fine. It just feels a bit stuffy in here, that's all."

"You'll tell me if anything's wrong, though?"

She forced a smile. "Of course."

Robert didn't feel too convinced, but then again they had just been through the ordeal of being mugged and threatened. "If you're sure."

They left the shop promptly, glad to be back outside where the air was still somewhat fresh and inviting, now having a better sense of where they were headed. Cora still leaned heavily against Robert as they walked, her right ankle feeling tender and slightly painful whenever she put too much weight on it. But Robert was content with supporting her, keeping his right arm wrapped around her upper back. They became more aware and vigilant of their surroundings as they went, not wanting a repeat with that ghastly man who had threatened them in an alley.

"Robert, are we nearly there?" Cora asked, feeling her injured ankle growing weaker. They were only about twenty minutes into their journey from the shop they'd stopped in.

He turned his head to face her, noticing how weary and pale her complexion looked, almost sickly it seemed. "It shouldn't be much further." He furrowed his brow, now worried as their pace began to slow considerably. "Darling, are you feeling all right?"

Cora let out a series of heavy breaths. "I need to stop," she said, taking off her hat and reaching up to touch her forehead. "I feel too warm."

Robert led her off to the side of the footpath. "Do you feel sick?" he asked, pushing back a lock of her hair, finding that the skin of her face was rather warm and slightly wet with sweat.

Cora shook her head, fanning herself with her hat. "Not really," she replied, leaning against the brick building they were standing next to. "I just feel so warm."

"What about your ankle?"

She grimaced. "It hurts."

Robert's features softened as he reached out to take her hand. "Darling . . ." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "I wish there was something more I could do for you."

A weak smile creased her lips. "Just having you by my side is all I need."

He felt her squeeze his hand, thinking that he couldn't possibly love her any more than he already did. "We'll rest for a bit, then. You take as long as you need. I won't force you if you think you can't walk."

"Thank you." She placed her other hand on his shoulder for support. "I wish I had a glass of water," she admitted, licking her dry lips, "a tall, ice-cold glass of water."

Robert began to feel guilty, believing that it was his fault they'd ended up lost and Cora injured. "I'm so terribly sorry, Cora," he said, his voice cracking over her name as tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. "None of this should have happened to you."

"Darling, don't cry," she said, turning her body so they were completely facing each other. "We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all."

He couldn't stop the few tears that slid down his cheeks. He had to look away from her, feeling embarrassed. "I should have protected you from that man."

"Robert, listen to me. You did everything that you could to ensure that he wouldn't harm me."

"But if that policeman hadn't run past the alley who knows what he would have done to you."

She reached up and touched his cheek, swiping away the trail of tears with her thumb. "I thought you were very brave." At his skeptical look she assured him, "No, I mean it. You gave up all you had for me—"

"The money didn't matter," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "It was the watch he took. My grandfather gave it to me just before I was sent off to Eton. It had been in the family for generations and I wanted to give it to my own son someday, but . . . That bastard has it instead."

"That's why you refused to give it up?"

Robert nodded. "Yes." His eyes finally met hers. "That watch was special to me, Cora. Now it's gone."

"I'm so sorry."

He smiled slightly, shaking his head. "Don't apologize to me." He then paused as an older couple passed them by. "But you're much more special to me than anything."

Despite the heat that seemed to overwhelm her, Cora felt her heart flutter at his words. "Robert . . ."

"I want you to understand how much you mean to me," he said, looking deep into her eyes. "Because . . ." He had to pause again, feeeling his emotions getting stuck in the back of his throat. "I'm afraid that this'll be the last time we'll ever be together like this."

She furrowed her brow. "What? I don't understand . . ."

"I nearly got you killed. How will your mother ever forgive me? And then there's your father . . ."

" _Stop it_. For heaven's sake, Robert, will you please stop worrying about what my mother will think?" She took an awkward step closer to him. "We belong together—you and I. I won't let my parents take that away from me. My roots might be in America, but I want the rest of my life to be here . . . with you."

Robert was silent for a moment, unsure of how to respond. But he noticed how their brief rest brought a little bit of color back to her complexion, though he could still see the fine layer of sweat coating her nose and forehead. "And I want to give you that life," he said. "I just worry about the differences between our families."

Cora let out a long sigh. "None of that matters, you know that. What's more important is that we love each other."

Robert pulled up their hands that had still been linked and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing them repeatedly. "Thank God for you."

She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes as the humidity still seemed to have its strangling hold on her. "We'll just take everything one step at a time. There's no need to rush into anything."

He nodded, letting their hands fall back to their sides. "Is it alright if we continue on? It shouldn't be too much further to the bridge." He brought his free hand up over his eyes as he peered into the sun. "I think I can see the Thames, maybe only a few blocks ahead. Either that or it's my imagination."

"As long as I have you to lean on," she replied, curling her arm around his back.

He smiled down at her. "Always."

Slowly, allowing Cora to set their pace, the two managed to make it to Thames Street on foot. Beside them, the Tower Bridge looked magnificent and regal, alive with construction workers hanging at all sorts of heights, each doing their part towards its eventual completion. Below, the water of the Thames was calm and blue, sparkling under the late-morning sun. Not a cloud was in the sky, but when Robert and Cora carefully meandered down the slight grassy incline to where the small dock was situated, both felt like the air had been sucked from their lungs. The rowboat was gone. Even the rope that had been used to keep the boat docked was missing.

"What the devil?!" Robert exclaimed, looking about for any signs of the boat. "It can't be gone."

Cora remained behind him on the grass, fanning herself with the brim of her hat. She heard him mutter a string of expletives as he paced up and down the length of the wooden dock. "Robert?"

He stopped to look at her. "I'm sorry, darling."

"Don't be upset about it."

His expression turned somewhat dark by her comment. "What do you mean _don't be upset about it?_ Our boat was stolen, Cora. How the hell are we going to get home? We can't go the rest of the way on foot, not with your ankle."

"We'll find a carriage, then."

He ran a hand over the rough stubble covering his jaw and chin, thinking.

"But in the meantime, do you think we could have a rest?" Cora asked, gently bending herself to sit down on the grass.

Despite their situation, she smiled at him. Letting out a tired sigh, Robert made his way towards her, seating himself beside her on the grassy incline.

"It's a beautiful view," she said, looking out across the river at the rest of London.

"It is, but I find you to be much more beautiful."

Turning to face him, Cora reached down for his hand. "Don't make me blush, Robert."

He smiled. "I mean it, Cora."

She entwined their fingers together. "I know you do."

There was a brief moment of silence until Robert's gaze dropped down to her legs, which were curled underneath her. "How's your ankle?"

"It's fine."

"May I take a look?"

Without a reply she extended her legs out in front of her. Robert gingerly picked up her right foot, unbuckling the slim strap of white leather that wrapped over the top of her ankle. The way his hand gently smoothed over the bare skin of her foot and ankle brought tears to her eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, looking up and noticing that her eyes were watering.

She shook her head. "Your touch . . . it feels lovely."

He brushed his thumb over the top of her foot. "It's a bit swollen—your ankle, I mean."

Cora looked down where his hand cradled her foot, now seeing that the skin around her ankle looked bruised and puffy.

"I don't know if it's broken or not." He glanced up and their eyes met. "I'm so sorry, Cora."

She placed her other hand against his cheek. "You've already apologized enough. Other than a bruised ankle, I'm perfectly fine."

"I know. I just . . . I never planned for any of this."

She rubbed her thumb over the rough stubble on his jaw. "On the bright side, I got to spend another day with the man that I love."

Robert smiled, covering the hand that was against his cheek with his own. "How can you be so perfect?" He turned his head so he could kiss the palm of her hand. "Everything about you . . . I just can't imagine not being with you."

Cora dropped her hand from his cheek and shifted herself closer to him. "Neither can I." She felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her against his side, their heads gently pressed together.

For some time they watched the boats pass by along the river, listening to the metallic pounding of the construction workers nearby. The sky above was still cloudless, a magnificent blue that contrasted well with the darkness of the Thames. Despite the heat and humidity, it couldn't have been a more beautiful day. Flocks of birds soared over their heads when the bells of St. Paul's Cathedral rang out, loud and clear across the city.

"It must be noon," Robert said, still gazing out at the river. Subconsciously, he reached for his pocket watch to check the time, only to remember that he no longer had it. He let out a wistful sigh, knowing that he'd never see his beloved pocket watch again. "We should think about continuing on." When he didn't receive a response, he turned his head as best he could with her next to him. "Cora?" He jostled his shoulder against hers, thinking she must have fallen asleep.

"Hmm?" she mumbled.

"I said we should think about continuing towards home."

She shook her head against his shoulder. "I don't want to move; I'm too comfortable."

He chuckled. "I know, darling, but we have quite a ways to go. And with your sore ankle our pace will be much slower. I want to get you home before it gets dark." He re-clasped the buckle of her heeled shoe, adjusting it so it wasn't squeezing her injured ankle.

"I thought we were taking a carriage?"

"Well, we have to walk to find one. Here. Let me help you up." With one arm around her upper back and the other holding her hand, Robert carefully pulled Cora back up to her feet. "Do you think you can make it up the hill all right?"

She nodded. "I think so."

While Robert stood behind her, just in case she stumbled or lost her balance, he thought he heard the sharp _clip-clop_ of horse's hooves emanating from the street above. "Wait. I think I hear horses. Will you be all right to stay here while I flag them down?"

She waved her arm at him. "Yes, now hurry!" She watched with a relieved smile as he sprinted up the hill in front of her, leaping over the short stone wall at the top and onto the street. She could even hear him shouting as he tried getting the coachman to stop the carriage.

It was a few minutes before Robert returned, side-stepping his way down the grassy incline towards her. "We've got a carriage," he said, holding out his hand for her to take. "The only thing is that we're sharing it."

"Sharing it?"

"It wasn't empty. The couple inside agreed to let us join them."

"Just like that?"

Robert chuckled as he helped her over the stone wall and down onto the footpath. "Once they realized who I was. I still have the key to the room at my father's club." He pulled it from one of the pockets of his waistcoat to show her. "Hardly anyone this side of London would have the privileges to be members there."

"At least something has gone our way today."

He smirked, pulling open the door of the carriage and helping her inside. "Thank goodness."

It was a rather tight and awkward ride. Silence prevailed throughout most of the journey, the middle-aged couple Robert and Cora rode with seemed in awe of the fact that they were sitting across from a self-proclaimed viscount. Due to the tight fit of the small carriage, Robert and Cora were pressed against each other, thighs and knees squashed together. Neither complained. They enjoyed being next to each other, and if they had been alone, Robert would have gladly held Cora's hand. But both let out a sigh of relief when the other couple got off at the Temple Gardens near Fleet Street.

"Finally I feel like I can breathe," Cora said as she extended her legs out in front of her.

Robert chuckled. "It did start to feel a bit claustrophobic in here."

"I can't wait to get home."

He glanced down where his hands were folded in his lap. "It's been quite a few days, hasn't it?"

Cora reached over and clasped his fingers. "They were certainly memorable."

"Do you think I'll be able to see you again tomorrow?" Robert asked, looking up at her.

"I don't know. I fear that after what transpired today my mother won't let me out of the house for a while."

"Perhaps I can just call on you? We wouldn't have to go anywhere."

"More than anything you know I'd like that. But I think it would be best if we spent a few days apart . . . until my father gets here on the thirtieth—just to let our parents recover a little."

Robert turned his gaze back down to their hands. "I understand." After a moment he raised his head once more and their eyes met. "But I'll still write to you if I'm allowed?"

She grinned. "Of course you can write to me."

He let out a short breath from his nose, smiling weakly. "Thank you."

Leaning over, they met each other halfway in a gentle, yet lingering, kiss.


End file.
